Pandora's Scions
by NorJC
Summary: A Raptor discovers far more than a barely habitable planet inside a nebula after the small craft misjumps during Starbuck's search and rescue mission back to Caprica to retrieve Anders and his people. This is an AU from "Lay Down Your Burdens Part 1" and a crossover with "The Fleet" military/sci-fi anthology series by Bill Fawcett and David Drake.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Pandora's Scions **

**Author: NorJC**

**Crossover: Battlestar Galactica 2003 and the military sci-fi anthology series "The Fleet" **

**Contact: **

**Rating: T**

**Date began: December 14, 2013**

**NOTICE: THIS STORY MAY BE DISTRIBUTED FREE OF CHARGE BUT MUST NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM. **

-COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER NOTICE-

_"Battlestar Galactica" _and all related material, its characters and certain technological devices and/or references to such, from the television shows and movies, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted by Glen Larson and whatever corporation it may or may not be owned by. This story takes off from the nBSG episode "Lay Down Your Burdens" Part 1 from Season 2.

_"The Fleet," "Battlestation,"_ and the Alliance of Planets may be or are registered trademarks of, or may be or are copyrighted by Bill Fawcett & Associates and whatever corporation it may or may not be owned by. The characters in this story, though, are the author's own creation.

No studio or publisher is responsible for the content of this story. Other names and additional characters are the creation of the author who is solely responsible for them as such.

**THIS STATEMENT MUST ACCOMPANY THE STORY 'PANDORA'S SCIONS' IF DISTRIBUTED. THIS STORY IS FREE OF CHARGE AND MAY NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM.**

** There are several great stories from "The Fleet" series you can find online. In any search engine, type in "Grimmer Than Hell" and "David Drake"- several of his Fleet stories will pop up. You can also type in a separate search for "The Murder of Halley's Comet" and Niven's and Drake's story will pop up, as well.**

**The cover image for Pandora's Scions is from Irvin L. Jackson's "Ascension Chronicles" universe and was provided to me through his kind courtesy to Lil'Hawkeye. Please see more of his art at DeviantArt under darklorddc. Thank you, Mr. Jackson!**

**###**

_To punish the tribes of man for their blasphemy, Zeus bade Hephaestus to create a mortal of stunning beauty. Zeus then bade Hermes to give the mortal a deceptive heart and a lying tongue. This creation was Pandora, the first woman. Then the gods gifted to her a jar which they forbade Pandora to open. With that done, Zeus sent Pandora down to dwell among the tribes of man._ – The Book of Pythia.

PROLOGUE

_Fifty years ago, the planet Xanadu, formerly known as Schlein Gamma IV, had been one of many worlds that had belonged to a group of mercantile-families that had called themselves the Syndicate. Their planets were located in the hindmost sector of a stellar cluster where the families had hidden during the Dark Millennium that had arisen after the fall of humanity's first interstellar empire. _

_After the Dark Millennium had passed, Earth had slowly recovered the ability of interstellar flight. Several centuries later, Earth and dozens of alien societies had joined to form the Alliance of Planets, a confederation of worlds comprised of both human and non-human planets. _

_Seventy-five years more passed before the Syndicate, still in hiding, had considered the much larger Alliance a potential threat to its way of life. Frightened by the unfettered economic expansion of the Alliance, the Syndicate had sought to curb its galactic rival by sending proxy races to raid Alliance worlds and to sow the seeds of terror that would rip the Alliance apart. However, when their proxies had failed, the Syndicate, led by the Schlein family, had launched a hot war against the Alliance outright. _

_Fortunately, for the Alliance, the interstellar military and exploration service known as the Fleet had defeated the Syndicate after a quarter century-long struggle._

_After the war, all of the Family worlds had been absorbed into the Alliance. Schlein Gamma IV, renamed Xanadu by the bitter victors, was situated in one of the systems on the border between the well-settled Beta Quadrant of the galaxy and the largely unexplored Gamma Quadrant. It'd been so far off the beaten path that there hadn't been any combat within parsecs of it during the Syndicate War. _

_Twenty years after the end of the war, the Alliance was still attempting to integrate the former Syndicate citizens into the Alliance. Even though Xanadu was a garden planet and the key to the Gamma Quadrant, no one had begun to plan any serious exploration of the unknown territory. Thus, when eight alien vessels had warped into Xanadu's system on a bearing from that unexplored area of space and launched hundreds of nuclear missiles at the planet, every person who'd manned Xanadu's untested planetary defense grid and a flotilla of light Fleet vessels stationed there nearly had a heart attack._

_Fortunately, the flotilla and the defense grid had managed to destroy the missiles and several of the attacking craft before a Marine Reactionary Force company assigned to one of the flotilla's frigates boarded one of the enemy vessels and captured some of its crew._

_The aliens had called themselves the Sakqua. They'd appeared to be a bizarre cross between a komodo dragon and the mythological centaur and were almost three times as strong as an Earth-born human. Months earlier, a Schlein merchant ship had entered one of the Sakquas' frontier systems and frightened the aliens out of their wits._

_Eons ago, after a long struggle for survival against a rival species on their homeworld, history had taught the Sakqua the only way to ensure their race's survival against a potential competitor species was to exterminate it. So, after they'd captured the trading vessel, dissected her crew members, and studied the ship's FTL drive, they'd decided to kill every human being in the galaxy to ensure the safety of their hatchlings. _

_When the Fleet realized that the Sakqua had declared total war on humanity everywhere, it decided to rapidly bolster Xanadu's defenses. So the Fleet immediately dispatched one of its battlestations to protect the planet._

_The Battlestation Miguel Alcubierre, named for the First Age physicist whose theories were the basis of warp drive, was so massive it created its own gravity well in space. Almost as large as Earth's moon, she had more than 300 large aperture laser cannons, dozens of missile tubes, and 24 gigantic plasma cannons, 4 on each pole and 16 along the circumference of the sphere. Designed both to provide a forward Fleet support node and an offensive or defensive platform to control an entire sector of space, the Alcubierre had a mixed crew of Fleet and civilians of 80,000 individuals. The station also carried three hundred ships, the preponderance consisting of scout and light attack craft. _

_Four months ago, the Fleet dispatched the Alcubierre under the command of Vice Admiral Dennis Amato to Xanadu. Amato was ordered to defend Alliance space from further incursions by the Sakqua and to prepare to conduct offensive operations in the Gamma Quadrant to force the Sakqua into a negotiated settlement. Also accompanying the Alcubierre to Xanadu were two hundred capital ships and escorts, along with the 100,000 personnel, of the 101__st__ Battle Squadron. _

_Once the Alcubierre had arrived in Xanadu space, Amato sought out the enemy. He determined the best way to accomplish this goal was to use a unique task force comprised of vessels crewed by single individuals who the ships loved more than anything in the universe._

Chapter 1

Captain Denzel Adu, the 'brawn' of the brain ship DD-0204 _Huntress_, bolted from his chair at the sound of the collision klaxon and glared at what appeared to be a tiny craft on the main view screen. "Will it hit us?" he snapped, his flat American accent crisp and alert.

"Not if I can help it," his wife, Captain Diana Adu, muttered. "Hang on!"

As he threw himself back into his chair, she switched on the ship's magnetic drive with a single thought and arrested their vessel's forward motion while dumping energy into the inertial dampeners to protect her man from the effects of her spaceframe's rapid deceleration.

Moments later, she studied her sensor readings and sighed. "Whew! That was close!"

He stood and executed a stately bow with an intricate flourish toward the central control pillar where Diana _was_. She chuckled warmly both for his humor and thoughtfulness. Denzel, alone of all men, always addressed himself directly at her physical presence, regardless of the fact that he knew she could 'see' him wherever he was in the ship. Throughout their partnership then their marriage, he'd never failed to turn his head in her direction no matter where he was in relation to her. In response to his consideration for her, she always spoke to him through her central speaker although it wasn't always the most efficient way to communicate with him. "Well, my lady, I suppose that should teach me to stop wishing for some excitement to relieve our boredom!"

"You should know by now to be careful for what you wish for, love!" she drawled in her lilting British accent.

Moments ago, they'd been in the middle of their fifth day staking out the only habitable planet in this dreary system located inside a nebula approximately ten light years rimward from Xanadu. Vice Admiral Amato had wanted to keep tabs on the system to prevent the Sakqua from using it as a staging area for raids against Xanadu, so he'd assigned the _Huntress_ to lurk and destroy targets of opportunity somewhat akin to the way attack submarines of the ancient wet navies had stalked their prey during the First Age of Humanity. However, the strange properties of the nebula's molecular cloud granted both advantages and drawbacks for the Adus. In this nebula, a destroyer could hide from almost anyone particularly if she only used her passive scanners. However, it was difficult to detect even planetary bodies inside the cloud unless you actively scanned and, in doing so, revealed yourself for all to see.

"Zel," she said, her voice controlled yet excited. "I've never seen the like! All of a sudden, it was just there! It didn't transition out of hyperspace; I detected a massive energy spike and there it was. However that craft's FTL engines work it uses a completely different drive system than our Cooper drive."

Until now, all star-faring cultures the Alliance had encountered used the Cooper drive to enter and exit hyperspace. The drive had been developed by the First Imperium and, although minor improvements had been made over several millennia, the basic drive system hadn't changed much over time.

While she ruminated on the strange craft's propulsion system, her husband studied the data her sensors had gathered on the intruder as the small craft descended from the denser regions of molecular gas toward the bleak and barely habitable world below. "Certainly is a tiny bugger," he noted. "That bird's way too puny to be a Sakqua raider according to the war book. Why it's only the size of one of our shuttles."

"Yes, she said, somewhat distractedly because she'd started to perform a low level active scan to see what they were dealing with. "My three hundred meter frame dwarves their—" Then she gasped and growled, "Bloody hell! Zel, there are _humans _on board that boat!" She then fell silent for a moment before she added, "Now, this is strange. My sensors can't detect any signs of deuterium on that craft. Also, it's using a pair of thrusters that emit some sort of reaction mass tied to a nuclear fusion powerplant rather than the magnetic drive system damn near everybody uses."

"So, what are you saying, Di?"

"Maybe we've stumbled into a first contact situation."

#

Denzel's eyes opened wide at that. His wife had been a shell person in the Fleet for nearly two centuries; she'd seen plenty in her time. Once, she'd reestablished contact with an outpost that had lost touch with the rest of humanity during the Dark Millennium. However, even those folks had possessed the drive systems developed by Imperial humanity.

Now, he squinted at the enigma that had presented itself to them on their main view screen. "So why in the hell would a craft filled with humans that uses drive systems we've never seen before come to this god forsaken planet?"

His wife snorted then shot back, "How would I sodding know? Maybe they were daft enough to fleece their bloody sector commander out of his credits in a bloody poker game and sent to cool their heels inside this bloody nebula, too!"

While his wife grumbled at him, Zel hid the grin that threatened to cross his face. It always made his day when he got his oh-so-proper lady riled up because the make-up sex was so damn good! If they were back in port, they'd send their twelve year old daughter Jennifer to spend the night with one of her classmates before Di would slip her consciousness into her sexy-as-hell humaniform body, don her merry widow, black stockings and patent leather 'C.F.M.' pumps, and have her wicked way with him.

During a mission, though, she'd never shirk her duty and transfer her consciousness into her biochene body. She'd always feared that doing so would leave both him and the ship vulnerable. That, Diana would never do. So absent a rousing bout of hot sex, it was better for all concerned for her to handle her frustrations by bitching at him rather than deploying the massive plasma cannons, A-Potential naval rifles, point defense lasers and thermonuclear armament her _Sorceress_-class destroyer frame wielded.

Now, her husband simply shrugged and rakishly cocked his right eyebrow her way. "Hey, it's not my fault that Amato's such a lousy poker player!"

"Bloody pillock," she grumbled.

He shot a surreptitious glance at her control pillar and hoped she was referring to the admiral rather than him.

As they maintained their position relative to the little ship, he noted, "They haven't reacted to us yet."

"I don't think they know we're here. Their scanners are way more primitive than ours. That's kind of the funny thing. Other than their FTL system, everything else on the craft seems like it is centuries behind our tech level."

"Should we hail them, Di?"

"I suppose so," she agreed. "But what language should we use? With their level of technology, I doubt they're equipped with a universal translator."

"Magnify the image."

She complied with his suggestion and they noticed some sort of script written inside a decal in the shape of an arrow on the craft's hull.

"Can you identify any of the characters inside that symbol, honey?"

He imagined he could see her squinting at the script rather than the actuality of her mind manipulating the ship's long range sensor cannon's zoom capability to take a look-see. "I think a few of those symbols match several in the Ancient Greek alphabet according to my databanks."

"Try to craft a message using Ancient Greek then."

"Right," she said.

Then as she attempted to contact the intruder, he stroked the week old stubble on his chin between the thumb and index finger of his right hand and mumbled lowly, "Who in the hell are these guys?"

#

"This doesn't look right," the Colonial _Raptor's_ human pilot murmured as her boat drifted through the nebula's gases.

Lieutenant Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson of the Battlestar _Galactica_ glanced out her cockpit's windscreen and realized that something was very off when she didn't see any of the other _Raptors_ of Starbuck's Caprica Search and Rescue flight nearby.

From his position beside her, her dark-skinned Electronic Countermeasures Officer (ECO), Hamish "Skulls" McCall, announced, "I've got no other contacts on DRADIS."

She glanced at him and snapped, "What?" As she awaited his response, Margaret listened quietly to the whirring of their instruments for a few moments while Hamish diddled with some of their boat's fancy electronic gear. Meanwhile, the two Colonial Marines in the back thrust their heads into the cockpit area, most likely, she mused, to find out how their frakked up excuse for a pilot got them lost in the ass-end of nowhere.

Moments later, Skulls completed the check of his instruments and grumbled. "Oh, man! We're at the wrong coordinates! I think there was some kind of glitch in the navcom firmware," he guessed. "Bottom line is, we're from hell and gone from where we're supposed to be, skipper."

At that, she sighed. Then she asked, "'Okay…um…any chance we can still catch up with them?"

Her ECO shook his head. "Not a chance. Mission rules say we head back."

Racetrack slumped in her chair. They'd executed only one jump, _one_ frakking jump in a series of ten that was supposed to bring them all the way back to Caprica and, already, everything had gone to Hades in a hand basket. Now, if that crazy bitch Starbuck somehow defied the odds, succeeded in returning from Caprica with Anders and his resistance fighters, _then_ found out how badly she'd frakked up, Thrace would never let her hear the end of it.

"Frak me! It was the first jump!" she whined, mostly to the universe. However, the universe definitely didn't give a frak about her situation, so complaining was just a waste of time.

"Hey, look! You gave me these coordinates!"

"Gods…" she exhaled noisily, resigned to the inevitable fate of having Starbuck on her ass about this for-frakking-ever. "Back to the barn," she grumbled.

Just then her ECO announced, "Hey, I'm picking up a large planetary body. It's frakking close!"

"Where did that come from?" she murmured. Then she snorted. Normally, one didn't 'suddenly' detect a planet, she mused. Planets tend to be pretty frakking hard to miss, considering how big they were and all.

"Hell if I know. There's so much DRADIS interference here, it didn't even register until now," he explained as he shot a look through their windscreen at the surrounding stellar gases. "Maybe this nebula we're in is frakking with our equipment."

She cocked her right eyebrow at him. That had all the markings of a lame 'CYA' explanation but decided to keep her observation to herself.

Now, as they approached the outer atmosphere of the planet, Racetrack decided to check her own sensors in case her partner was a bit off his game. However, when the data began to flow onto her screen, she blinked twice and murmured, "Hey, check this out. Atmosphere is nitrogen/oxygen, organic molecular spectra… fresh water! Hey! You know what this is? It's habitable. We may have just found a world that can support human life! Maybe we're not just a bunch of frak-ups after all!"

For a moment, Skulls grinned at her like a loon. Then something on his screen grabbed his attention. When he glanced at it, the smile on his face ran away. "Margaret," he said ominously.

_Oh crap!_ She knew the only reason Skulls would ever use her given name during a mission was if they were well-and-truly frakked. Sighing resignedly, Racetrack snapped, "Talk to me, Skulls!"

"We've just been pegged by something I've never seen before! It ain't DRADIS; the frequency's all wrong and…" He interrupted himself momentarily, studied something on his display for a moment then shot a scared look at her. "We're receiving a transmission from something big on our six. And Track…its signal ain't Colonial in any way, shape or form."

She glanced up at the ceiling of her tiny ship and screamed to the gods, "You just love frakking with us, don't you?" Then she shot a hard look at her ECO. "It's gotta be the frakking Cylons!" she spat. Damn it, she couldn't believe their luck! The fleet hadn't seen the mechanical frakkers for months now. Even the Old Man had believed they'd ditched the bastards. Now, the genocidal machines were over the only habitable planet they'd found since Kobol. "They're probably trying to use that signal to download that virus of theirs. Well, it's time to get the frak outta here, Skulls! We'll jump and try and shake 'em before we run home to the barn," she snapped as she hunkered down behind her flight controls.

"Wait a moment," he murmured. "Their signal…it's only audio," he observed. "In fact, someone's yapping at us but I can barely understand her." Then he cried out, "Frak me!"

"What?"

"They just swept us with more energy than three Mercury-class battlestars could generate!" he exclaimed. "They've got us frakking cold!"

Racetrack's jaw dropped at that. "A big ship in high orbit around an unknown planet and it's right on our tail," she said woodenly.

"Do you think it's a basestar?" Skulls asked.

"Let's take a look," she said. Then she fired her port maneuvering thruster and their _Raptor_ swung a full one-eighty. Now, she narrowed her eyes at the large vessel that was directly ahead of them and noted, "That's not a basestar. For one thing, it's not as big. In fact, it doesn't look like anything the toasters would build."

Skulls snorted. "You're right, skipper. In fact, that thing is so…alien, I don't see anything on its hull that I recognize. Also, my scanners can't tell if that thing has nukes on board."

She blinked twice at that. That didn't sound good. "You know what? I'm thinking we should get the hell out of here, Skulls."

He stared at the other ship through their windscreen for several moments before he said, "Hold on, Track. By now, they could have lit up our asses good but they didn't take the shot. Besides, they seem to be maintaining station and keeping a respectable distance from us. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to try and talk to them."

#

Skulls switched his radio over to the same frequency that had transmitted to them and said, "This is Colonial _Raptor_ 841 hailing unidentified vessel. Come in, please."

A few seconds later, someone spoke something close to Old Caprican to them in an accent that reminded Skulls of a kind-of-hot, female version of Gaius Baltar. _"841…who…__**are**__ you?"_

"We're Colonials…we're from the United Colonies of Kobol!" Skulls told the voice.

The voice was silent for several moments before it said, "_Colonies…are you…an Imperium colony_?"

"What the frak is an "Imperium?" Skulls whispered to Racetrack. His pilot simply shrugged in response. Then he transmitted, "No, we're not from any Imperium."

_"This is…the _ϕ.Σ_. Ἄρτεμις of the Amphictyony of πλανήτης. The Amphictynony…is a…star... league of plah-nee-tees with…different races." _

"Different races," Skulls repeated. Then his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "Are they saying they're real, honest-to-gods aliens?" _Holy crap!_ Had they just made mankind's first contact with a sentient alien life form? Racetrack then frantically waved at Skulls to have him ask the voice for confirmation of that.

"Ph-S _Huntress_," Skulls transmitted, "when you say 'different races,' do you mean people who aren't…human?"

The voice chuckled then said, _"Some of us…are…human…some are not. On this ship, our crewmembers…are human."_

Skulls couldn't believe his ears. They'd just run across other humans in the middle of nowhere!

"Holy Mother of Zeus!" Racetrack cried out. "Ask them what planet they're from," she whispered almost as if she was afraid the people on the other ship could hear her.

He nodded then opened the circuit again. "We're human, too. My skipper would like to know if you can tell us the name of your home world."

_"Earth," the voice said._

Skull's eyes opened wide at that. _ Earth?! Did that Baltar-sounding chick say 'Earth?!' _

For her part, Margaret Edmondson whooped ecstatically as she bounced for joy in her seat. "Hot damn!" she exclaimed while her ECO stared dumbly at her. "The Old Man is not going to frakking believe this!" she crowed.

#

As the _Huntress_ maintained station several kilometers off the little craft's bow, Denzel Adu chuckled softly. "I'll be damned! They're actually speaking to us in Ancient Greek?"

Diana snorted. "I'd say more like a bastardized version of it! If I can keep them talking, the AI will construct a translation matrix that should overcome the difficulties we've been having until now."

"You know," he mused, "I don't think they could have gone far in a small craft like that. Maybe, it's a scout vessel for a much larger ship."

"I think you're right, Zel," she murmured. "Hey, they're speaking to us again," she said softly then added, "and I can understand what they're saying much better now. Here, let me switch on the cabin's speaker's so you can hear them."

_"Huntress," _the man in the tiny spaceship said, _"this is Raptor 841, over."_

"Roger, 841, please proceed," she answered.

_"We must return to our mother ship, _Huntress_. Once we report to our leaders, we're certain they'll want to arrange a meeting with you. Would you be willing to meet us in orbit above this planet?"_

"Of course, 841, we would be willing to meet you here. When do you want to meet again?"

_"We will return here tomorrow at this same time."_

"Acknowledged, 841. However, before you go, please be advised this sector of space is a potential war zone. A nonhumanoid lizard-like species that calls itself the Sakqua has decided to exterminate all of humanity. If they run into your vessels, they may be a danger to you. Please tell your leadership we would be willing to assist you in defense against the Sakqua."

Diana then heard a female's voice say over the radio, _"I knew I was right about the universe being out to get humans!" _shortly followed by the male who stated, _"_Huntress_, we copy that. Is Earth in imminent danger from these…Sakqua?"_

Her voice processor produced an unladylike snort. "Hardly," she drawled. Then she asked gently, "By the way, what is your name?"

_"My call sign is Skulls,"_ he answered.

"Hello, Skulls," she said. "My name is Diana." Then she was all business once again. "Although the Sakqua are a fairly advanced race, it is unlikely that the lizards could endanger our home world. Earth is the most heavily defended planet in the Alliance."

She heard Skulls' relieved sigh over their connection. _"That's good to know, Diana. We have been looking for your people ever since the Cylons forced us to flee from our Colonies several years ago. Like the Sakqua, the Cylons want to kill every human being in the universe. So we've come both to warn you about them and to seek refuge among you."_

Denzel stared directly at her control pillar and drawled, "Wow! Dennis is going to need a stiff drink when we he hears about this!"

"After listening to Skulls' story, I think I need a shot of what Dennis will have, too." Then she locked the lens of her control module's camera onto her husband's face and asked, "What do you think we ought to do?"

He pondered the situation for a moment before he said, "We should hypercom the _Alcubierre_ and report to the admiral. He'll decide who should be assigned to meet with Skulls' people. Amato will probably send someone here to return with Skulls to his mother ship to open a dialogue with their leadership."

"That sounds good, Zel," she said.

As she prepared to say goodbye to the smaller craft, Denzel said, "Di, before they go, ask them about their FTL drive."

"All right, honey," she said. Then she switched on her transmitter and asked, "Skulls, how does your stardrive work? Our drive allows us to travel through hyperspace in a series of short, almost instantaneous jumps."

_"Ours doesn't work like that,"_ Skulls said_. "Our system folds space, allowing our vessel to almost instantaneously jump across the folded volume of space."_

"I see," she said slowly while she checked her databases for information on Skulls' peoples' FTL drive. Then when she found something directly on point in her files, the Fleet officer managed to conceal her embarrassment from the others. "So...that's why we didn't see any signs of your approach in hyperspace. You simply 'appeared' in the system."

_"You've got it, Diana."_

_Interesting_, she thought. According to the data she'd just found, during the First Age, the Imperium had developed a similar drive system known as the 'hyperlight' drive. However, the Imperium had abandoned it when the Cooper drive had proven to be more efficient and much safer. Although using hyperlight allowed you to travel long distances very quickly, if you were slightly off in your calculations or ran into a hyperspatial anomaly in the midst of your jump, you were screwed. Besides, in the era of hyperspace mines, a hyperlight drive meant certain death. If a hyperlight ship jumped into space near a planet where these types of mines were laid, the ship wouldn't be able to detect them before the mines phased out of hyperspace inside the ship's bridge or engineering section and "BOOM!"

However, even though the Imperium had stopped using hyperlight drives, that didn't mean Skulls' people hadn't come up with a solution to the problems of both anomalies and mines. So Diana said, "That's good to know, Skulls. I'm curious, though. How do you know the ship won't jump into another object that happens to be present in the target system, such as, say another vessel or station in orbit above a planet?"

_"Well, to us, the jump seems instantaneous, but in reality, it isn't. Before the vessel enters the target system, the navigation computer rapidly scans the area to determine if the ship's intended destination coordinates are free and clear. If it finds an object with sufficient mass is already present at the programmed coordinates, the computer inserts a preprogrammed constant sufficient enough to move the ship away from the object depending on that object's relative displacement. The system works like a charm if you don't get cute with it. Now, if you try to do something crazy like jumping from a distant point in space to a point inside the atmosphere of a planet then it's possible the ship could jump inside a solid object like a mountain. Of course, that would destroy the ship and kill everyone inside her."_

While she thought, _it doesn't appear his people are aware of the hazards of hyperspace mines,_ what she said was, "Well, thank you for sharing that information with us, Skulls. Have a safe journey home!"

_"Goodbye, Diana. We'll see you tomorrow," _he said. Then he added, _"I can't wait to meet you in person!"_ right before she and her husband witnessed a huge flash. Suddenly, the _Raptor_ was gone leaving no trace behind that it had ever been there.

As she prepared to leave the nebula to send a communique to the _Alcubierre_, Diana reflected on Skulls' parting words and pondered two things. First, she wondered if Skulls was truly prepared to meet a disembodied brain who lived inside a metal alloy pillar. Then she wondered if all men were so careless with their wishes.

#

**Thank you for choosing to read this story. If you'd like, please submit a review. Your reviews help me improve the story and are greatly appreciated. **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**BATTLESTATION ALCUBIERRE – XANADU SYSTEM**

"Identity disks, please."

The guard at the interior desk was all business as he required Captain Malcolm Jackson and Lt. Commander Lena Stenger to insert their credentials into a slot built into the armor-glass cubicle where he was stationed. Jackson was a tall man of African American descent, with a muscular build perfect for a wide receiver or safety on a professional football team. He was forty-one, but looked younger. His colleague, Stenger, had recently been promoted into her rank. She was a woman of medium height, with an athletic build and an attractive face framed by blonde hair, both of which strongly reflected her Teutonic heritage.

Soon, when the guard's computer had identified them as the people who were expected, a green light flashed on the man's control panel. As the pair retrieved their disks from the slot, the guard pressed another button on his panel, opening the door that led down a hallway. Then he saluted them and said, "The admiral is expecting you," before they proceeded down the passageway. Moments later, they halted in front of a heavy armor-glass door and before Jackson could press the announcement button on the wall next to the door, the panel slid open and an order to enter was given.

Beyond the portal was Vice Admiral Amato's office. The Admiral whose face plainly showed his Asian heritage was seated behind his massive desk until, at the sight of both Jackson and Stenger, he rose to greet them.

"Malcolm, Lena, good of you both to come so quickly." Amato then guided them toward a man who was slouched on the couch across from the Admiral's desk. The man appeared to be about ten to fifteen years older than Jackson, with a large nose, a delicate chin and a slightly pock-marked face. He had a drink in his hand and appeared to be totally relaxed in their presence. "Malcolm, I believe you know Mario Alfano, the Secretary of Planetary Affairs' troubleshooter."

"Yes, sir. I've met Mr. Alfano when I served as the Fleet's liaison to the Alliance Senate five years ago."

Alfano smiled and rose off the couch to shake Jackson's hand. "It's nice to see you again, Captain Jackson. Why, if I recall, you reported on how Fleet Intelligence had terminated the terrorist activity on the former Syndicate planet of Dunholme. You people really hit the ball out of the park in cleaning up that mess!"

"We were only doing our jobs, Mr. Alfano."

Alfano flashed a grin at that. "So, you're both effective and modest! I like that in a man, Captain. I think Dennis here has picked the right man to lead this mission." Then he turned his attention to Jackson's colleague. "Hello, I'm Mario Alfano," he said reaching out to shake her hand.

Lena shook the man's hand and said, "I'm happy to meet you. I'm Lena Stenger."

"Malcolm, Lena, do either of you care for anything to drink?" Amato asked.

Jackson shook his head. "Nothing for me, sir."

"Just some water would be fine, Admiral," Lena added.

Amato fetched some water for her then said, "Why don't you all have a seat and I'll tell you an interesting story."

After everyone was seated, the Admiral in an arm chair, Alfano, Jackson and Stenger on the couch, Amato activated his holoscreen and pointed to an image of a strange-looking vessel. "A few hours ago, the brain ship destroyer _Huntress_ ran across this small craft in a system approximately ten light years rimward from Xanadu. According to the crew of our brain ship, the craft didn't transition from hyperspace like one of our vessels; it just popped up out of thin air. However, even stranger than the appearance of the craft is the fact its crew is entirely human yet they have no knowledge of the Alliance of Planets whatsoever."

"They don't know anything about the Alliance or the Fleet, sir?" Lena asked.

Amato nodded. "That's right. According to my friends on the brain ship, these people had no knowledge of the First Imperium, either. And the brain ship crew had a hard time talking to them at first until her crew realized that these people didn't have a universal translator. In fact, the crew had quite a time figuring out they had to talk to them using a bastardized version of Ancient Greek."

"That is quite interesting," Alfano noted. "So, what did they have to say to the brain ship crew, Dennis?"

"Well, that's the part of the story that concerns me the most. They claim they're the remnant of several worlds that were colonized by their human ancestors. Unfortunately, these worlds were all annihilated by some creatures they refer to as 'Cylons.' Apparently, the survivors of this apocalypse have been on the run from these things for the last two years or so in search of the planet Earth for refuge."

"Earth?!" Jackson exclaimed. "If they supposedly don't know about the old Imperium or the Alliance, how would they know anything about Earth?"

"That's a good question, Malcolm…and that's why I need someone to go and find the answer."

Although Jackson felt the bottom drop out from under him, he was careful to allow only the carefully crafted look of professional interest to show on his face. "I take it that's where Lena and I come in, sir."

Amato smiled warmly at him. "Mal," he said, his demeanor switching to an intimate one, "we need people with good heads on their shoulders to look into this for us. With the Sakquas stirring things up in this sector and the hassles of dealing with a nearly hostile population of former Syndicate citizens on this planet who see us as little better than the lizards that tried to bomb Xanadu back into the Stone Age, we need someone to meet with the leadership of these alleged refugees and assess the situation. Tell me, who better than a pair of spooks?"

Jackson sighed deeply and simply nodded. He couldn't fault the Admiral's logic. It made sense to send intelligence operatives for several reasons. Spooks were trained to use diplomacy and observation to acquire information from their targets. They also knew they often had to operate without having the benefit of a safety net under them.

"What is the mission, sir?" Jackson asked simply.

Amato sighed, shot a glance at Alfano then turned his gaze on both Jackson and Stegner. "After Sickbay tweaks your implants to help you communicate with these people, you both are to take my gig to System XA-4312 and rendezvous with the F.S. _Huntress _by 1230 local time tomorrow. You will transfer from my gig to the _Huntress_ and await the arrival of the refugee's small craft which should appear approximately at 1346 local time. You will advise the refugees that you are willing to return to their mother ship to meet with their leaders to discuss their situation and any humanitarian needs they may have. Then you are to persuade them to return the both of you to the _Huntress_ so you may contact us. Now, I have ordered the brain ship to remain on station for one week. Make certain the refugees understand they must return you to the _Huntress_ before the week is up. After your return, you will provide a report to me via hypercom so Mr. Alfano and I can determine if the risk of allowing the refugees to approach Xanadu is warranted in light of their pursuit by these Cylons. Any questions?"

"Sir, what are the constraints Lena and I are operating under for this mission?" Jackson asked.

"Mal, you're in command, of course; Lena you're there to provide Mal support and to assume command if something happens to incapacitate Mal. Try to find out as much as you can about these people but do nothing to antagonize them because you'll be on your own while you're with them. Until we know more about these people and the problems they have with the Cylons, you are not to commit the Fleet to battle the Cylons on their behalf at this time. You can provide assurances to them, though, that we will send a patrol to protect them from any attacks by the Sakqua. You may also commit to provide them with food, medicines, and medical care. However, we cannot provide them with any arms or ammunition until we get a better handle on their situation. Well, that's all I have for you both. Mal, Lena, can I count on you?"

Jackson turned to his partner and she nodded once. Then he turned back to the Admiral and said, "Aye, aye, sir!" his voice demonstrating his utmost conviction for the mission.

#

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA – COLONIAL FLEET**

Admiral William Adama scrutinized both of the officers who stood at attention before him like a drill sergeant searching for signs of weakness in a pair of raw recruits. "And you're _certain_ they said they were from Earth?" he asked as both Lt. Gaeta and Colonel Tigh stood by awaiting an answer to Adama's question.

Racetrack, with the cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on her pretty face, nodded fervently. She was still flying high because she knew that Skulls and she were going to go down in history as one of the saviors of the fleet for finding the Thirteenth Tribe alongside the Admiral and President Roslin. Why, she'd never have to buy a drink for herself in a bar ever again! Then she remembered it was probably for the best if she answered the Old Man's question out loud. "Yes, sir! That's what they said, sir!"

Admiral Adama nodded to his pilot and asked, "Tell me more about their ship, Margaret."

"She was about half the size of your old battlestar, the _Valkyrie_, maybe three hundred meters from bow to stern."

"Did you notice any weapon systems on her hull?" Adama inquired.

Skulls picked up the thread then. "Well, sir, they didn't fire upon us, so we didn't actually see what kind of weapons technology they might have. In fact, sir, their craft looked so 'alien,' I had a difficult time trying to determine if anything on that ship was recognizable to me."

Adama nodded then murmured, "A ship belonging to the Thirteenth Tribe" before he flashed a demure grin at each of his officers in the room. "Racetrack, Skulls…well done."

"Admiral, sir?" Adama heard the question in the woman's voice.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir!"

"Granted," he said. For gods' sakes, the girl had earned the right to say whatever the hell she'd wanted to say!

"Sir, I'm ashamed to admit I never believed that Earth was real. I just thought it was a fairy tale. I'm sorry I didn't have more faith in you, sir."

Adama smiled warmly at her then drew her into a tender hug. "Margaret, I'll let you in on a secret. The faith you have in yourself and your shipmates is the thing that counts the most. Every day, against all odds, both Skulls and you have always gone out, done your best and protected the ships of this fleet. So you've got nothing to be ashamed of, understand?'

After he released her from his warm embrace, Racetrack regarded him with a smile and tears of relief in her eyes. "Yes, sir!"

"Now, I need you to get your head in the game because you need to take me to Colonial One. President Roslin has asked for us to go there so she can hear your report first hand. Then she and I will decide who should return with you tomorrow to meet the representatives of the Thirteenth Tribe. Hopefully, we'll be able to arrange for their representatives to return with us to the fleet."

"Admiral," Colonel Tigh asked, "if we can get the Thirteenth Tribe to agree to that, do you think we may have to leave someone behind with them as a sign of good faith that we'd bring their people back to them?"

Adama had to stop for a moment to think upon that. "That's a good point, Saul. I'll be sure to bring it up to Madame President for her consideration."

As the officers began to leave Adama's office, the Admiral asked, "So, what was the name of the Earth ship again?"

"Her name is the _Huntress_, sir," Skulls answered. "And the woman who communicated to me from the ship is named Diana."

"The Goddess Artemis is the Huntress; Diana is the name the Taurons refer to her," Adama drawled. "I guess they do have the same gods we worship," he noted. Then he chuckled to himself as he recalled that Artemis was the sister of Apollo. Hopefully, when he told Lee all about what Racetrack and Skulls had found, his son would get a good laugh out of it.

#


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**COLONIAL ONE – COLONIAL FLEET**

"Aliens?!" Laura Roslin snapped. The President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, or, what was left of them at any rate, wasn't in the mood to be the butt of anyone's practical joke. Still in the midst of her recovery thanks to Hera Agathon's stem cells from the illness due to her cancer, she was very tired. Despite being ahead in the polls, the constant campaign against Gaius Baltar had sapped her reserves. So, somewhat in a testy mood, she asked Margaret Edmonson, "Lieutenant, pardon my Leonese, but are you trying to yank my frakking chain?"

Racetrack shot a nervous look at both Skulls and Admiral Adama as the trio stood in front of the President's desk before she recovered her composure and said, "No, ma'am! I would never kid either the Admiral or you about an important matter concerning the fleet!"

Laura simply nodded and sighed deeply. At first, she'd been shocked by the news that the two officers had discovered a habitable planet when they'd misjumped during the rescue mission back to Caprica. Then she'd become almost apoplectic when she'd heard they'd stumbled upon a ship in orbit above the planet claiming to be from Earth. However, she almost completely lost it when they had delivered the news that the Thirteenth Tribe had dealings with sentient alien life forms.

Why, in all the time humanity had lived on both Kobol and in the Colonies, neither the Colonials nor the Cylons, as far as she knew, had ever encountered sentient alien life forms among the stars. Now she glared at Racetrack over the top rim of her eyeglasses like a school marm scrutinizing her most troublesome pupil. "Lieutenant," she enunciated the word crisply, "could you repeat the warning you received from the people you claim are members of the Thirteenth Tribe for me once again, please?"

"Yes, ma'am," Racetrack said. Then she gulped deeply before she began her recitation. "The woman told us the Thirteenth Tribe was a member of an alliance that included sentient alien life forms. However, Skulls and I suspect that the Thirteenth Tribe leads the whole operation because she said Earth was the most heavily defended planet in the alliance. At present, this alliance is at war with another alien race she called the Sakqua. The focus of the Sakquas' aggression is apparently against humankind and not the other aliens in the alliance. However, if those lizard-like aliens run across our fleet, they won't hesitate to attack us according to the Thirteenth Tribe woman because we're human. After she told us that, she offered to have her people provide warships to protect us from their enemy."

Roslin blinked twice as her weary mind processed everything Racetrack had recounted to her. "Lieutenant, did they say if they share any of their colony worlds with the aliens in their alliance?"

"No ma'am, that subject never came up in our conversations with them."

Laura nodded to Racetrack then turned to Bill Adama with the cheeky smile she reserved solely for him despite the fatigue that threatened to drag her under. "What do you think about Lt. Edmonson's report, Admiral Adama?"

The man simply regarded Laura in his calm way for a few moments before he began to speak softly in his gravelly voice. "The fleet must remain at its current position until Starbuck's search and rescue mission to Caprica returns. Fortunately, we're currently in deep space, light years from the nearest star system. It's unlikely that these Sakqua would run across us out here because they're searching for the Thirteenth's planetary populations. For the moment, I think we're safe because we're essentially a tiny needle in a huge haystack."

Laura nodded in agreement with his reasoning. Then she smiled at both Racetrack and Skulls. "Lt. Edmonson, Lt. McCall, thank you both for your report. If these people are who they say they are, you both have most certainly delivered our fleet from the Cylons. Please accept my thanks on behalf of our people. Now, do you mind waiting for the Admiral outside in the foyer? I need to discuss a few important matters with him before he returns with you to the _Galactica_."

After the two junior officers had exited the room, she turned to Adama with her presidential façade firmly in place. "Okay then, how do we know this isn't a frakking Cylon trick?"

He shrugged and said simply, "We don't." Then he added, "However, I trust my officers. According to Lt. McCall, these people had plenty of chances to have captured or killed them yet they didn't take the shot. Also, if they were Cylons, I doubt they would have added the complication of aliens to the mix. Instead, they'd have fed us a story we'd want to hear, simply that we'd encountered members of the Thirteenth Tribe without mentioning anything about their interstellar alliance or their war with the Sakqua."

She smiled warmly at him then. "I find it hard to argue against that, Bill." Then she shook her head and noted, "By all the Lords of Kobol, it will be difficult enough for some of our people to accept that we've found the Thirteenth Tribe in and of itself. Now, we may also have to tell them our prodigal tribe not only has encountered sentient alien life forms, the Thirteenth also established a government with some while it's at war against another?"

"Well," Adama drawled, "it IS a big universe out there. Truth to tell, the possibility of meeting sentient alien life was something the Admiralty had seriously considered. However, the first war and our need to build our forces for a possible return of the Cylons put most of our plans for deep space exploration and the search for sentient extra-colonial life forms on the back burner. A fat lot of good that did us, though," he grumbled.

"I know," she whispered, sharing the pain he felt over the Cylons' destruction of their colonies. However, they had to deal with the here and now, so she tried to get them back on track. "Do you have a recommendation on how we should proceed?"

He narrowed his eyes for a moment then locked his gaze onto hers. "We need to send Racetrack and Skulls back in their Raptor to meet the Thirteenth Tribe's ship and see if the people on that vessel would be willing to send some representatives on our Raptor to meet us. Now, Saul raised a good point before I came here to meet with you. He said the other tribe may want some assurances we'd return its representatives safe and sound, so we should consider leaving a few officers with the other ship until we send their representatives back."

She regarded him soberly. "Hostages?"

"Well, I would prefer to think of them as liaisons," he offered.

"That's all well and good if these people are on the up and up, Bill, but would happen to our officers if this turns out to be a trap?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid. But sometimes, you've got to roll the hard six. I think this is one of those times."

She closed her eyes for several precious moments before she flashed them open and gave him a resigned look. "All right then. Who are you going to send to represent us?"

"Well, I'd like to send Baltar along because if it was a trap and we lost him, I think I could live with that," he joked and Laura smiled along with him. "Seriously, though, we need to send officers who can keep their wits about them yet are confident enough to walk into the lion's den."

"Should whether or not they are expendable to the operations of the fleet be considered as well?"

The Admiral shot a hard look at her. "None of my officers are expendable, Madame President."

She raised both hands in an effort to appease the man. "My mistake, Bill, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

He nodded, apparently willing to let the matter go.

She smiled demurely at him and asked, "Do you have someone in mind?"

He nodded like a weary old man and said, "I do…Captain Kelly and Lieutenant Katraine."

"Okay," she said simply. "What's your plan?"

"I'll ask them if they want to volunteer for this assignment. I won't order either of them to do it, but knowing both officers, I know they'll step up to the challenge. I'll instruct them we're coming back for them but until then to keep their eyes open, ask a lot of questions, and, for gods' sakes, be diplomatic!"

"Are you going to stress that last part with Lieutenant Katraine, Bill?" she asked with a saucy smile.

"Although you might find it hard to believe, although she can be a wildcat, Louanne is certainly better for this mission than Kara, Laura," he drawled. Then he grew serious once more. "Before they board the Raptor with Racetrack and Skulls, we'll have all four officers in environmental suits. Before I left the _Galactica_, I discussed the possibility of this mission with Dr. Cottle. He told me that both the Thirteenth and we should insist on our personnel wearing protection during our initial contact to ensure neither side exposes the other to any deadly bacteria or viruses until both sides run enough tests to show unprotected exposure would be safe. Besides, the tests, at least in our case, would also prove to us if these people are actually human."

A disturbed look crossed Roslin's face then. "You know," she whispered, "I'm glad you checked with Dr. Cottle about that. I was so excited about the prospect that we'd finally found our long lost brothers and sisters, I'd never even considered the possibility of either side wiping out the other from an infection."

"Well," Adama quipped, "that's why he's a physician, you deal with children, both as a schoolteacher and the leader of the Quorum, and I drive battlestars."

#

**XANADU – CAPITAL CITY OF GAMMABRUCKE, PLANETARY ADMINISTRATION BUILDING**

The glistening skyscrapers and twinkling towers of Gammabrucke's skyline signified the wealth and power the Schlein family had wielded throughout this sector of space. Even though the planet had been settled by humanity during the halcyon age of the First Imperium, the megatropolis, that's name meant 'the bridge to the Gamma Quadrant' in German, still appeared to the casual observer as shiny and new.

As she stood on the balcony of her Sector Administrator's office on the top floor of the Planetary Administration Tower, Alexandra Schlein enjoyed a tiny bit of serenity afforded her between the back-to-back meetings that cluttered her busy schedule. Like most Schlein women, she was lean and tall like the Administration Tower her ancestors had built a thousand years ago. The thirty-eight year old woman was blessed both with hair of gold and her family's regal bearing. Although she was an achingly beautiful woman, under Syndicate custom, she was considered to be the second 'son' of the Schlein Family in line to succeed the 'Father' or Chairman of the Board of the company, at least what was left of it after the war with the Alliance. Now, demilitarized and operating more like the regulated corporations of the Alliance, her family still had the means to persuade the Alliance to allow it to administer the sector so long as the family worked within the Alliance's representative republican framework.

"_Administrator,_" a voice over her earpod concealed inside her right earring intruded upon her all-to-brief solitude.

She turned away from the view and asked her personal assistant, "What is it, Greta?"

_"You have an incoming message from Senior Captain Jackson of the Fleet. He's calling from the _Alcubierre_. It's logging in as urgent."_

Alexandra's eyes opened wide at Greta's news.

Before she'd transferred to the administrative track, she'd been trained to be a liaison manager, or in Fleet-speak, an intelligence operative. Before and during the war, a liaison manager was responsible for engaging with the Syndicate's vassal aliens to provide both strategic command and control and to manipulate them into attacking Alliance worlds and commerce. It had all been part of the game to protect the Families' way of life from being assimilated by the far larger and insidious Alliance of Planets government.

Although she'd learned to master her job as an administrator, in fact, she was still a liaison manager deep down inside. The espionage game, with all its intrigue, particularly when interests and alliances shifted depending upon the stakes, appealed to her far more than the less-than-subtle sausage-making inherent in the political process.

So, after the _Alcubierre_ had arrived, she'd thrown a welcoming gala for the battlestation's senior staff. During the celebration, a tall, African American Fleet officer caught her eye from across the room and gave her a rakish smile. Then he strode toward her and engaged her in a conversation she found both challenging and stimulating like fencing with words instead of sabers.

Malcolm Jackson was quite different from any man she'd met before. Superficially, he was unique from the perspective that the Family worlds had been mostly settled by Caucasians of European descent. Until the Fleet had defeated the Syndicate, Alexandra had never met a black man before.

However, after several dinner engagements with him, what had really interested her about the man was the fact he'd not been intimidated by either her beauty or her position. Further, unlike nearly every Fleet officer she'd met, he hadn't treated her as a 'traitor to humanity' albeit it had been true her people had unleashed their vassal aliens on the Alliance.

Now she smiled and said, "Very well, Greta. Please link the good captain to my personal channel."

_"Yes, ma'am,"_ her assistant said and connected the call.

_"Hello, Alexandra," _he said in his pleasant tenor voice.

"Hello, Malcolm."

_"Is this a good time to talk?"_

"Yes."

_"I usually wouldn't bother you at work but I had to call to tell you I can't make our dinner engagement for tomorrow night. Something's come up. The brass has given me a mission that just popped up out of the blue. Unfortunately, I'll be out of pocket for a week or two before I can see you again."_

She pushed down her disappointment and labored to strike a cheerful tone. "Oh, well, Malcolm, I understand that personal plans go out the window 'when duty calls.'"

_"That's the nature of the beast but I wanted you to know I was really looking forward to seeing you again, Alex."_

Her right brow lifted toward the ceiling. Malcolm referring to her by her 'pet name' was something new! Until now, only her father called her 'Alex.' Yet, for some reason, she didn't mind that the dashing officer had called her that.

Even so, she decided to tease him a bit for taking such liberties with her. "Now I won't ask you about the particulars of your assignment; I wouldn't want Admiral Amato to think I was a Syndicate Mata Hari seeking to use my wiles to steal away your military secrets."

He chuckled warmly and said, _"Well, if I return, I promise to tell you all about it, all right?"_

At that moment, her breath caught in her throat when she'd heard that dreaded word. "Malcolm…don't you mean to say 'when' instead of 'if?'"

He didn't say anything for several moments. Then he responded. _"Of course, Alex"_

She blinked several times before she was able to speak again. "Are you leaving soon?"

_"Yes—within the hour or so."_

She crossed both arms against her chest, seeking solace yet finding none. Then she said, "All right then. I will see you _when _you return. Oh, and Mal," she drawled, devising a pet name for him since turnabout was fair play. "When you get back, I'll prepare dinner for you at my place with my very own hands. All you have to do is bring a bottle of fine wine and show up with an appetite."

_"Is that incentive or a warning, Alex?"_ She heard the smile in his voice.

Her tone took on that of a mock rebuke. "Senior Captain Jackson, I'll have you know my family spared no expense to have me trained by a Sorbonne educated chef."

He laughed and acquiesced. _"All right, I surrender, okay? It's a date!"_

When she saw Greta enter her office to provide the two minute warning for her next meeting, a very sober Alexandra said, "Mal, I've got to go now. Travel safely and…come back to me."

_"Is that your directive, Sector Administrator Schlein?" _he asked with a bit of his usual swagger in his voice.

"But, of course, Senior Captain Jackson!" she drawled. "Now be a good Fleet officer and do as you're told!"

_"As you wish," _he said softly.

At that moment, she smiled sadly and had a burning desire to hug him close. "Take care, Mal."

_"See you soon, Alex,"_ he said then terminated the call.

Before she left her balcony to go inside for her next meeting, Alexandra Schlein took one last look at the skyline. When the sight seemed rather stark in comparison to what she'd seen before she'd taken Malcolm Jackson's call, she shuddered despite herself.

#


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**SCHLEIN GAMMA – BATTLESTATION ****_ALCUBIERRE _****– MEDCENTER ONE**

"Here's your viral scanner, Doctor."

"Thanks, Teagan," Ian Dalle said to his technician. Dalle, the only child of Doctors Mackenzie Dalle and Iris Tolbert, decorated war heroes during both the Khalian Conflict and the Syndicate War, was a tall, lean man with broad shoulders and a mop of dark hair that occasionally fell into his eyes.

Now Dalle ran the device over the ruptured tissues inside the exploded chest cavity of a Sakqua corpse on the examining table. The dead alien had been recovered during the Marine assault on its vessel several months ago. The creature was a six-legged, two-armed centauroid with a head that had a bulging cranium over a toothy muzzle. It was sprawled across the exam table on its left side with its head at the top of the table and meter and a half long tail drooping over the table's bottom. The alien's skin appeared more like a reptile's hide, brownish-green in color, somewhat similar to alligator leather.

After he'd completed his scan, he grabbed a slide from the instrument stand on his right. "Teagan, fix this sample, please."

"Sure thing, Ian," she said. Then when the old two-D communicator chimed for their attention, Teagan Jovanich slathered a coating onto the plexistrip with one hand and flipped on the switch of the communicator with the other. "MedCenter Lab," she announced. A moment later, she stared at the image on the view screen and cleared her throat noisily. "Commander Dalle," she snapped crisply, "it's for you."

Curious about her shift from her usual casual demeanor to military crispness, Dalle moved to her side of the table. Teagan then glanced meaningfully at the communicator. He narrowed his eyes at the screen before he snapped to attention. "Good afternoon, Admiral."

"Good afternoon, Dr. Dalle," Vice Admiral Amato said as he stared at Ian from the communicator's screen. "At ease," the Admiral ordered. "Doctor, we need a physician for a delicate mission. Fleet Intelligence thinks you're the right man for the job. That's why I'm asking you for your help."

"Sir, do you mind if I ask how I can be of assistance to you?"

Amato smiled slyly. "Caution is an admirable virtue, Doctor. We have a situation in which one of our destroyers has run across a small craft crewed by humans who claim to know nothing about either the Alliance or the old Imperium. These people speak a derivative of Ancient Greek and say that 'Earth' is a lost colony of theirs. But that's not all there is to the story, Doctor. These people also claim that their homeworlds were annihilated by creatures called the 'Cylons' and the few survivors are fleeing from their enemies in a refugee fleet in search of Earth. Do you follow me, Doctor?"

"Yes, I believe so, sir."

"Good. I want to send some people to make contact with the small craft and travel back to their fleet to check their story out. We need someone with a medical background to go for several reasons. First, we need to determine if they are truly human. Second, if they are human, we need to find out how they came to be so isolated from the rest of humanity. Third, we need someone to survey their humanitarian needs so we can provide proper assistance to them if warranted. Finally, we need to find out as much as we can about these Cylons to determine if they may be a threat to the Alliance. And so I come to you."

Dalle glared at the screen and said, "Let me guess—Action Jackson put you up to this."

Amato gave him a blank look. "Excuse me, Doctor?"

"Was my presence on this mission specifically requested by Senior Captain Malcolm Jackson of Fleet Intelligence?"

"Yes, that's right. Can you report to my gig in Docking Bay 101 within the hour, Doctor Dalle?"

Dalle fought to keep from cringing in front of the Admiral. _Damn that Spook! _ his mind shouted inwardly. Dalle had worked with the intelligence operative on several occasions in the past. Even though Jackson had treated him well, Ian had never been comfortable around the man. Jackson had a few tics that didn't sit well with him. The man wore a hand-made Swiss timepiece that was so expensive only the CEOs of interstellar corporations could afford watches like that. The man's jacket, although tailored smartly, was cut to accommodate concealed hardware. The predatory sense of amusement he seemed to have for everything and everyone around him, made the hair on the back of Ian's neck stand straight up. However, nothing was worse, in Dalle's mind, than the completely emotionless face Jackson had when he tossed two helpless men out of an aircar thousands of meters above the surface of Dunholme.

Of course, Dalle couldn't say any of these things to the Admiral unless he was either bucking for a Section 8 and the end of his medical career or wanted to end up dead. So, all he could do was look sadly at his interrupted research project then at Teagen. Yet, he received no sympathy from her because she had an unrequited crush on him and also appeared to be quite impressed by the fact an admiral had asked him to do his bit for 'God and country.'

"Yes, Admiral," he said and sighed. "I need to gather a few pieces of equipment then I'll leave for the docking bay immediately, sir."

#

**SCHLEIN GAMMA – BATTLESTATION ****_ALCUBIERRE _****– INSIDE THE ENTRANCE TO DOCKING BAY 101**

"Dr. Dalle! Come and join us, please!"

Ian painted on a smile as he approached Jackson and a young woman. Both were standing beside their duffel bags at the entrance to the docking bay where it opened outward in both directions as far as the eye could see and upward for six stories. Inside the massive structure, Dalle saw squadrons of fighters sortieing in and out to fly their CAPs, thirty meter long scout ships being maintained by deck crews, and one hundred fifty meter long corvettes parked carefully on the deck.

Jackson actually regarded him with a warm smile and that made Ian worried. It was strange to see something other than the predator's smile the other man normally had. "Doctor, let me introduce you to my partner, Lena Stenger. Lena, this is the physician I've told you about, Dr. Ian Dalle."

Lena smiled brightly at him, causing Dalle's heart to skip a beat. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Dalle."

He wanted to say the pleasure was all his because she was an extremely attractive woman; however, he held back because the unit patch on her jacket's right shoulder indicated she was a spook like Jackson. So, he decided to be a little reserved in his response to her. "It's nice to meet you, too, Commander," he said then returned his attention back to Jackson. "Captain, do you mind if I had a word with you for a moment?"

Now Jackson's predatory smile returned making Dalle feel like he was no longer in an alternate universe. "Of course, Doctor. Lena, why don't you proceed to the Admiral's gig's airlock? We'll join you shortly."

"Yes, sir," she said, lifted her luggage and strode away from the two men.

He watched the enticing sway of her hips as she walked away from them for several moments before an apparently bemused Jackson asked, "What would you like to discuss with me, Doctor?"

A sober Dalle asked, "Why me, Jackson? Why'd you have the Admiral ask for me when you knew what I've seen you do to those two prisoners on Dunholme?"

The other man narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "I chose you because I need a physician I knew to be both compassionate and highly ethical on this mission. You definitely fit the bill in both categories."

Dalle smirked in response. "Well, I guess that makes one of us."

Jackson returned the physician's smirk with his own. "Actually, Doctor, I believe, once you get to know Lena, you'll find she's a very compassionate person. As for being ethical, well, I wouldn't put much stock into that; having ethics in our line of work tends to be a liability."

"That doesn't surprise me at all, Captain."

A slayer's grin formed on Jackson's face then. "Look, Ian, I keep trying to teach you I'm not your enemy. Now, what you witnessed on Dunholme, well…that's over and done with—yesterday's news. You're a smart guy because I know you haven't mentioned what happened in that aircar to anyone. That's probably why you're still breathing and not planted six feet under. Honestly, I'd like to keep it that way. You're a great diagnostician and a compassionate healer. The Fleet needs more like you. But you need to understand if you continue to push me; I'll push back—and I push back real hard. Got it?"

Dalle suffered no delusions. There was no doubt in his mind that Jackson was one scary bastard. "Got it…sir."

#

**_PROMETHEUS_**** – COLONIAL FLEET**

"This had better be good, Linden!"

Tom Zarek, former terrorist, Sagittaron delegate to the remnant fleet's Quorum of Twelve, and campaign manager of Gaius Baltar's bid for the presidency, found himself in one of the dimly lit corridors of the fleet's black market ship with a totally unsavory character. Even though Zarek had spent a lot of time behind bars for his terrorist activities, the fairly tall man still possessed a certain charm and boyish good looks despite the fact he was pushing sixty.

"It's good, Tom; trust me!"

Zarek laughed scornfully. "Trust you? Not as far as I could throw you! Let's not waste my time, Linden. Two thousand cubits is a lot of money even if the Colonies are nothing but radiated husks. So tell me, what kind of information is worth that much money?"

The other man shot a guarded look at the delegate. "Information that can turn an election, Tom. So, do you have the cubits on you I asked for or not?"

Zarek's face displayed no emotion whatsoever as he dug a pouch of the currency from his suit jacket's right pocket. When he handed the bag to Linden, he warned, "If this information's bogus, you're a dead man."

The _Prometheus_ lurker gulped noisily and nodded. "No problem, Tom. I wouldn't try and frak you over."

"If you know what's good for you, you won't. Now give!"

"Okay, okay! Look, I've got a reliable source who's one of _Galactica's_ deck crew. My associate told me one of the _Raptors_ Starbuck took with her on her crazy-ass mission back to Caprica misjumped. At first, the _Raptor's_ pilot and ECO both thought they'd frakked up royally but as luck would have it, they'd managed to pull 'full colors' out of their asses. Not only did they find a habitable planet nearby, they ran into a starship from the Thirteenth Tribe in orbit above the frakking planet!"

"Let me get this straight," a stunned Zarek gritted out, "The military has stumbled across a ship that belongs to the Thirteenth Tribe? You're not yanking my frakking chain, Linden, 'cause if you are, I am NOT amused!"

"I'm not frakking with you, Tom! My source is solid as a rock about this!"

Zarek blinked twice while he tried to process what he'd just heard. Frak! If the military had actually managed to stumble across the Thirteenth Tribe, Baltar's bid for the presidency and his own plan to be the 'power behind Baltar's throne,' was well and truly frakked! Frak the unbefrakkinglievable fortune of both the _Galactica's _Old Man and that gods damn school teacher!

Recovering somewhat from his shock, he narrowed his eyes at the man and asked, "The _Raptor_…who flew it?"

"My source told me Edmonson and McCall. They also had two marines on board with 'em but my source didn't pass along the names of the grunts to me."

Zarek simply nodded. That sounded about right. If Linden had relayed too many details, the story wouldn't have rung true. He then gave the man a hard look to let him know their meeting was over. "All right, I'll check out your story. Don't give any cubits to your source and don't spend any of it until I get back to you and give you the okay. Just give me until midday tomorrow and if this pans out, the money's all yours."

"Thanks, Tom!" the man said then scampered away from Zarek and faded into the shadows that cloaked the ship's dingy passageway.

#

**SCHLEIN GAMMA – BATTLESTATION ****_ALCUBIERRE _****– DOCKING BAY 101**

"Master Chief Hagen? Prepare to receive relevant charts and data for a rendezvous with the F.S. _Huntress _in Area GSD 700/800. Are you flight ready?"

My audio receptors perked up when I heard the Duty Docking Bay Officer, Commander Alexis Griffin, on the line. She's the officer responsible for my performance reviews and handling the assignments of all the scout ships assigned to the battlestation. Commander Griffin is a real nice lady but she's so stern she'd give the Grim Reaper a run for his money. Maybe she's like that because of all the cybernetics they implanted in her skull to keep her alive after she suffered a serious head wound during a pirate attack several years ago. As for me, although my brain's intact, both it and my sense of humor are the only things left of my old self.

"Yes, ma'am!" I said with enthusiasm because an Admiral's gig is always up and at 'em or you're liable to be demoted to flying milk runs between groundside spaceports and orbit. "Data received, Commander."

"Very good, Bill. Stand by!" she said warmly. Truth to tell, hearing the consideration for me in her voice made me feel a wee bit uncomfortable. Commander Griffin only warmed up to someone when she was giving them a tough row to hoe. "Admiral, Master Chief Hagen is ready for you, sir."

"Thank you, Commander. Master Chief Hagen." Vice Admiral Amato's soft tenor voice was crisp and clear. "I have an important mission for you. I need you to transport three Fleet officers to the third planet of a system located inside a gaseous nebula in ASD 736/838. You are to make your way there at your best speed. Once you arrive, you are to rendezvous with the F.S. _Huntress _and proceed to dock inside her boat bay. Captain Jackson, the senior officer among the trio you are transporting, will brief you on the way about the particulars of your mission."

Luckily, I don't have a face because the Admiral would have seen a sour expression on it. Not knowing the whole story until after I'd set sail didn't sit well with me but it was clear as a bell the Admiral wanted me to get his trio of brass-hats to the Adus, toot-sweet.

Yeah, I know the Adus. Despite the fact she's a brass-hat, Diana's a great shell person. And both her old man and her kid are okay in my book, too. When she'd married Denzel, the guy was the first person who managed to pry her out of her 'shell,' so to speak. For more than a century, she'd only identified herself as the ship that contained her control column because she'd never lived life as a living, breathing human being. Finally, after all those years, she'd fallen in love with one of her brawns and decided to place her consciousness inside a biochene body while off duty to experience a relationship with all the 'bells and whistles.' Then the couple had decided to avail themselves of the wonders of modern science to have a child and start their own family.

Now, me, I was a starfighter pilot long ago before my body started to give out. What's that saying? 'The spirit was willing while the flesh was weak?' Anyway, my outlook is different from shell people because I had experienced life as a human with a body, so I never associate my sense of self with the ship itself.

Even though I'd engaged in a little bit of woolgathering for a few moments, the Admiral didn't have to wait long for my response. "Aye, aye, sir!" I sang out like a fresh middie responding to his drill instructor.

"That's the spirit, Bill! May the wind be at your back and God speed!"

"Thank you, sir," I said right before the Admiral signed off.

Even while we were discussing the mission, I reviewed the data I'd received from the _Alcubierre's _computer banks. Almost my entire RAM was taken up by the download. You see, the computers of the _Ocelot_ Mark 25 scout which I drove are pre-programmed for evasive maneuvers and maintenance. There isn't a lot of space for anything beyond the requirements of the immediate assignment.

As I waited for the arrival of the brass-hats, I marveled at the Admiral's thoughtfulness. Flag officers don't often make time to brief a scout pilot. Amato's different from the rest, though. When he goes out of his way like that for spacemen like me, it just makes us want to work even harder to make him happy.

I only had to wait ten minutes or so before someone activated my airlock com-unit. "Permission to come aboard," a man announced.

I took a look and found three people, a tall black man, a Caucasian woman and a Caucasian man waiting outside. The black man appeared to be the one who'd activated my com-unit.

"Permission granted, sir," I said and opened the airlock. After they boarded the _Ocelot, _I welcomed them.

The black officer smiled and said, "Malcolm Jackson, Senior Captain, Fleet Intelligence. This," he indicated with a sweep of his free hand toward the other man while he was toting a duffel bag in the other, "is Dr. Ian Dalle, Commander, Medical Corps. And this," he said and moved his hand toward the young woman, "is Lena Stenger, Lieutenant Commander, Fleet Intelligence."

"It's nice to meet you folks. I'm Bill Hagen, Master Chief Petty Officer."

"We're glad to meet you, too," Jackson said. They glanced around my cabin and he asked, "Where should we stow our gear, Bill?"

They'd all lugged duffel bags and a large med-kit on board. "There's some storage in the bins underneath the port couch. We _Ocelots_ are a little tight on space."

"Maybe so," Jackson agreed, "but you're built for speed not hauling cargo. You're the fastest things in the Fleet!"

I certainly appreciated the captain's praise. At first blush, he seemed like a decent guy.

"Master Chief Hagen," Jackson announced crisply for the record, "please inform the Docking Bay we've come aboard. I believe you've received both the data and a preliminary briefing from Admiral Amato. I'm to provide the rest of your briefing after we get under way."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

After my passengers had fastened their safety harnesses, I signaled Commander Griffin we were ready to leave. She cleared us for immediate departure and I released the grapples that held the ship to the bay's deck. I gave my repellers a little juice, lifted off and glided toward the energy screen-protected opening to space. Once I penetrated the screen and entered hard vacuum, I switched on my magnetic drive and sped away from the _Alcubierre._

I loved driving my _Ocelot. _She's the newest scout ship in operation in the Fleet, the twenty-fifth model in a long line of speed demons. She's as fast as lightning and as maneuverable as a gazelle on the run from a hungry lion. Now, she's not a gunboat and doesn't have any armor or shielding to speak of. These boats are only armed with four plasma cannons, two on the bow, two on the stern. The way I look at it, the best defense is to be quick enough not to get hit in the first place and an _Ocelot's_ speed fit my way of thinking to a tee.

When we were point-five AUs from the battlestation, I double-checked the calculations Commander Griffin had downloaded into my nav-comp. I confirmed the numbers, laid in the course and announced to my passengers, "Prepare for Faster-than-Light transition." Then I activated the ship's FTL drive and the _Ocelot _opened a gate in normal space and hurtled through it into hyperspace like a shot!

Once we we'd reach the ship's best speed in sponge space, my three charges released their safety belts, stood up and stretched the kinks out of their spines. Jackson then showed me he was as thoughtful as the Admiral when he turned to address my control column. "Bill, are you ready to receive the rest of your briefing?"

"Fire away, sir!"

The man smiled. "After you dock and my party transfers to the _Huntress, _you are to remain on station inside her boat bay until her brawn brings a passenger or two on board your _Ocelot. _After that, you are to return to the _Alcubierre _to meet with the Admiral. Now Bill, these passengers may appear to you to be human but they claim they're not from the Alliance or any of the independent systems we know of. In the meantime, my party hopes to catch a ride back to these people's fleet. We need to check out their story and if they're legit, we'll help them as much as we can. Bill, from the little we know of these folks, their technology appears to be centuries behind ours, so we don't know how they'll react to ships driven by shell people and guys like you. I'd advise you to take your lead from Captain Adu in your dealings with them, all right?"

"I understand, sir."

"Great!" Jackson said. "Well, I guess that's it. So, what's the chow like on this boat, Bill?"

I smiled inwardly. "Why it's the best grub in Schlein Gamma, sir! After all, this IS the Admiral's gig!"

Then I proceeded to describe the items on the menu as the _Ocelot_ continued to race through hyperspace.

#

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA – COLONIAL FLEET**

Lieutenant Louanne 'Kat' Katraine heard the muffled "Enter" from the other side of the hatch leading into Admiral Adama's office. She'd just returned from flying CAP for the fleet and the pretty young woman's red dyed hair was pulled into the tight bun and she was still garbed in the vacuum protected suit she donned during flight operations.

A second after the Old Man's command, the marine who guarded the Admiral opened the door and announced, "Lt. Katraine is here as ordered, sir."

"Send her in," Adama ordered.

"Yes, sir," the guard answered before he stepped aside and she slid past him.

"Lt. Katraine reporting as ordered, sir!" she barked to the Admiral while the guard closed the hatch behind her. As she stood there, she took in Adama's craggy features and reflected on how comforting they were to her. Of course, she'd heard the tales about the Old Man's exploits, both in space and in a rack, during the first war with the Cylons. The word was, back then, he was as handsome as his son, Apollo, was now. However, even though he was almost three times as old as she, his current appearance was attractive to her in its own way, like the impregnable façade of a mountain.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Adama said, interrupting her musings. "Please take a seat," he directed as he pointed to the chair across from him. After she'd seated herself, he seemed to study her face for several moments before he said, "I've asked you here because you're one of the two best officers I have for this mission. I want you to understand I am not ordering you to go on this mission; it is purely voluntary. If you choose not to volunteer there shall be no further attempts to ask you to go on this mission and there will be no repercussions or recriminations if you choose not to accept, are we clear?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Lieutenant, what I'm about to tell you is classified and compartmentalized on a need to know basis. You are not to discuss anything I say during this briefing with anyone absent my express permission. Do you understand, Lieutenant?"

"I understand, sir."

He stared at her for a second or two then said, "Earlier today, Racetrack and Skulls misjumped during Starbuck's SAR mission. They ended up in orbit above a habitable planet inside a nearby nebula. While they were there, their _Raptor _encountered another ship allegedly crewed by people who claim to be from…Earth."

Her chin nearly dropped onto the floor. "They claimed they were from Earth, sir? Margaret and Hamish…they found the Thirteenth Tribe?"

"I'll come to that, Lieutenant. Now these people also claim they're part of a federation of worlds which includes sentient alien life forms as members alongside them."

Her eyes shot even more wide open at that revelation. These people supposedly interacted with honest-to-the-gods _aliens_?! What in the hell were Racetrack and Skulls smoking when they cooked this feldergarb up and where could she get her hands on the stuff?

"The ship's crew also said there's another alien race that has attacked them and intends to eradicate all of humankind."

She snorted. Well that figures, she mused. It seems the whole frakking universe had it out for humanity. Maybe both the hostile aliens and the Cylons could form an interstellar "We Hate Humans" club or something.

Meanwhile, as she reflected on what he'd just said, Adama continued his briefing. "The ship's crew said their people would provide warships to help protect the fleet from these hostile aliens they refer to as the 'Sakqua.' At any rate, the ship's crew agreed to Racetrack's and Skull's request to meet with us tomorrow same place, same time. President Roslin and I have approved of this mission and decided to send along two officers we can rely on to represent the fleet to the Thirteenth Tribe. Hopefully, the Thirteenth will send representatives back on our _Raptor _to meet with the President and me while our two officers remain with the other tribe until we return for them. Of course, the President and I realize this could be an elaborate Cylon trap and there is a substantial risk for the two officers involved. However, if there is a chance this could be the real thing, we can't afford to pass it up."

He stopped to take a sip of water from a glass on his desk. Then he set the glass down and said, "Kat…Louanne, I'd like you to go on this mission. If you decide to accept, I want you to take in everything you see, ask these people lots of questions, don't give them any of our sensitive military information and, for gods' sakes, don't do anything that might piss them off!"

She smiled slyly at him and asked, "So you don't want me to pull a Kara Thrace?"

He chuckled and quipped, "That sounds about right."

Her mood sobered quickly when she started to consider the parameters of the mission. "So…if we're supposed to be diplomatic that means we have to go in unarmed."

"I'm afraid so. Besides, it would be difficult for you to carry a weapon since you'll be wearing environmental suits. Doctor Cottle is concerned we may expose the people on that ship to a virus that may be harmless to us but deadly to them. So they may want to conduct medical tests on you to determine if exposure to you will be safe for them. Therefore, you will have to submit yourselves to their medical examinations so long as the tests are reasonable in scope and not intrusive. Of course, we're concerned about the same thing if they send representatives, so we hope they take precautions, as well."

She nodded somberly. "Sir, you mentioned 'two' officers. Does that mean you have another volunteer already?"

"I do. Captain Kelly has agreed to go. He will be in command of this mission. However, I've instructed him to exercise his authority over you only when absolutely necessary. On this mission, I want you both to focus on obtaining as much information as possible about these people and the Sakqua. I also want you both to show our people in a good light to the leaders of the Thirteenth Tribe."

"I understand, sir." She fell silent for a full minute while he waited patiently for her decision. It didn't take long for her to make up her mind because, in truth, she didn't really have it in her to turn the Old Man down no matter how dangerous the mission sounded to her. The Old Man had never questioned her about her past, had never doubted her even after she'd lost it for a time when she'd got strung out on the stims. He'd accepted her into the ranks of his beloved Viper jocks without any hesitation or reservation on his part. The woman she'd become realized she'd owed the Old Man everything; she couldn't let him down now. So Louanne Katraine looked him straight in the eye and snapped, "Admiral, you can count on me. I volunteer for this mission freely without any hesitation or reservation, sir!"

The Old Man smiled warmly at her. "Thank you, Kat. Both the fleet and I appreciate your courage." Then he stood up, snapped to attention and crisply saluted her.

Struggling to hold back her tears, she rose from her chair and returned the Admiral's salute.

After they dropped their hands back to their sides, he said, "Lieutenant, I want you to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow at 1000 hours, you are to report to my office for your final briefing before you leave. I will approve field rations for both Captain Kelly and you to take along on your trip to ensure you have sustenance while you're with the Thirteenth Tribe. Well, I believe that's all I have for you at this time, Kat. If you do think of anything I might have missed or have any further questions, please don't hesitate to contact me. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," she said and spun on her heels to leave.

"Oh, and Kat?"

She whirled about to face the Old Man again. "Sir?"

"Make damn sure you come back to us. Good Viper pilots are hard to come by these days, you know."

"Yes, sir!" she exclaimed with a broad grin before she turned again to leave, opened his hatch, stepped outside and marched down the corridor.

#


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**F.S. ****_HUNTRESS _****BOAT BAY – AREA GSD 736/838**

"Senior Captain Adu," Malcolm Jackson asked crisply to the environment suit garbed brawn of the F.S. _Huntress,_ "permission to come aboard sir?"

Denzel Adu inclined his head and stated "Permission granted, sir."

"Zel," Jackson said and turned to the suited figure on his right, "this is Doctor Ian Dalle. And this," he indicated the smaller suited figure on his left, "is Lena Stenger.

Adu bowed slightly toward them. "It's a pleasure to me you, Doctor, Ms. Stenger. Would your party follow me, please?"

#

**F.S. ****_HUNTRESS _****– DECK FOUR CONFERENCE ROOM**

Jackson and the others followed Diana's brawn through a hatch into a corridor. After they'd walked several meters, Adu opened another hatch that led into a fairly large room and guided Jackson's party inside. The room was quite stark. Its only furnishings were a rectangular table with three simple chairs on either side and a single chair on either end. There were also wide angle camera lenses mounted on each wall. Adu waved his right hand at the lens closest to him. "Diana, say hello to our guests!"

"Malcolm," she purred in her pleasant soprano voice, "it's so wonderful to see you again! You're as dashing as always!"

"Although I don't know how you can tell that when I'm dressed in this getup," he drawled as he pointed to his environment suit, "I appreciate the thought, Diana. Oh, I'd like you to meet Doctor Ian Dalle and Lena Stenger."

"Doctor, it's an honor. Ms. Stenger, welcome aboard!"

After the introductions were completed, the three men and Stenger seated themselves at the table. Jackson was the first to speak. "Denzel, what time are our guests scheduled to arrive?"

"They should be here in two hours."

"Good. Were you able to sterilize this room?"

"Yes," Diana noted. "My husband completed the process shortly before your ship arrived in the system. Also, I have several holographic images ready to project above the table to help explain the Sakqua and the non-human members of the Alliance for our guests."

"Good thinking, Diana!" Jackson exclaimed. Then he shot a look at the Dalle. "Doctor, after our guests have arrived, what happens next?"

Dalle said, "After you indicate it's all right for me to proceed, I'll examine them to ensure they're human and inoculate the ones who'll return with Master Chief Hagen and Captain Adu to Xanadu. After I give them their shots, we'll keep them talking for an hour or so to ensure they don't suffer from an allergic reaction to the serum."

Stenger then said, "When Doctor Dalle is satisfied that the Colonials' representatives are fine, we shall try to convince their flight crew to ferry our party to their mother ship."

"Malcolm," Denzel asked, "do you have a contingency plan if only the two members of their flight crew show up to meet us?"

The other man shrugged. "Well, if that turns out to be the case, we'll gently suggest they should leave the pilot's associate here with you. I believe it's important they have someone travel with you to Xanadu to brief Admiral Amato about their fleet's situation and to return to their people with observations about our presence in the Xanadu system."

"It would go a long way of establishing our credibility with their people," Stenger added.

"Malcolm," Diana drawled, "since you are depriving me of my husband's company for several days, do you think it would be all right if Denzel brings our daughter back home?"

"I don't see why not, Diana. I doubt there's any risk to Jennifer from the Colonial representatives. I'd expect them to be on their best behavior since they're seeking help from us. If not, either Bill or your husband could incapacitate them if they get out of hand." Jackson then glanced at Ian, Lena, Denzel and Diana's camera. "Is there anything else we need to cover?" When his question was met with silence, he smiled and said, "If that's all, now we wait. Does anyone have a deck of cards on them?"

#

**COLONIAL ****_RAPTOR _****841 – AREA GSD 736/838**

"This looks about right," Margaret 'Racetrack' Edmondson announced as her boat reemerged into real space inside the nebula high above the planet she'd orbited yesterday.

While Captain Kelly and Lieutenant Katraine poked their heads into the cockpit to take a look through the craft's windscreen, Skulls and she checked their scanners. Today, it was a bit more difficult to read the data since they were all wearing their environmental suits; however, that couldn't be helped. Doc Cottle was pretty frakking adamant they had to wear the gods damn things or else they could never go home again.

"Skipper!" Skulls breathed. "We've just been lit up again like yesterday." Then he paused as he studied his wireless transceiver. "We're receiving a transmission. It's the _Huntress!_"

"Put it on the cabin's main speakers, Skulls."

"You've got it, Skipper," he said and threw a switch on his console.

_"Huntress hailing Colonial Raptor—Skulls, is that you?"_

The ECO grinned. "Raptor 841 to _Huntress—_we're back and we've brought a few friends!"

The Thirteenth Tribe woman chuckled. _"We have some people onboard we'd like you to meet, too. I suppose we should get this show on the road as it were. Can your pilot hear me, Skulls?"_

In response, Racetrack activated her comm link. "Diana? This is Racetrack. I'm the pilot."

"_It's so good to meet you, Racetrack. I shall now provide you with landing instructions."_

Soon the woman had provided the information to Margaret in a format the pilot actually understood. Racetrack changed course and steered her craft under the keel of the much larger vessel. As they drew closer to the ship, she spied a ramp and lined up her _Raptor_ with the flashing parallel rows of lights leading up into the opening in the ship's hull. The pilot guided her _Raptor_ up the ramp into the bay and slid her craft alongside a larger ship she estimated to be about 30 meters long parked on the deck. She experienced a slight dip in her altitude caused by the pull of the deck's artificial gravity but she was able to compensate. Now she glided her craft toward a square of oscillating lights and moments later, gently set her _Raptor_ down inside the square before she shut down the engines."

_"Good show, Racetrack!" _Diana gushed over their wireless. _"I'm now closing the ramp and shall begin pressurization of the docking bay. Please remain inside your craft until atmosphere has been restored. It should take only a few moments before you may open your hatch. Meanwhile, Senior Captain Jackson will be waiting for you in the bay. He is unarmed so there is no cause for any of you to be alarmed. Once you disembark from your craft, he will escort you to a conference room we've prepared to receive you. Do you have any questions?"_

Racetrack glanced over her shoulder and shot a questioning look at Kelly. In response, he simply shook his head. Then she turned her head forward and said into her microphone, "Roger that, Diana. We are unarmed as well."

_"Splendid! Please standby Raptor 841,"_ the woman announced. Only a minute or so passed before the Thirteenth Tribe woman said, _"Docking bay is pressurized to one standard atmosphere. You are now free to disembark from your craft at this time. Diana, signing off," _the woman said then closed the wireless channel.

Racetrack checked her instruments to confirm the bay actually did have atmosphere. Once confirmed, she opened the hatch and the craft's occupants scrambled out onto the bay's deck.

Waiting patiently for them outside was a figure encased in what appeared to be a Thirteenth Tribe's environmental suit. Its helmet light was illuminated and she could see a human face that had the same pigmentation as her ECO. The figure raised its right hand and waved it minutely side to side. Margaret watched as Kelly reciprocated the figure's motion with Kelly's own right hand.

The figure then turned a nob on a pack that was on its chest and she heard a voice through her helmet's speakers. "Welcome. My name is Malcolm Jackson. I am an officer of the Fleet. Please follow me and do not be concerned. You shall not come to any harm aboard this ship."

Kelly then stepped forward and said, "Thank you for welcoming us. My name is Aaron Kelly an officer of the Colonial Fleet. We will follow you."

Jackson turned and headed toward a hatch. Kelly fell in line behind the other man while Skulls and Kat followed their captain and Racetrack took up the rear to watch their six.

#

**F.S. ****_HUNTRESS _****– DECK FOUR CONFERENCE ROOM**

Jackson marched down the corridor with Kelly, Kat, Skulls and Racetrack following closely behind. He led them to a hatchway that opened into what appeared to be a utilitarian conference room. He then stepped into the room indicating they should proceed inside. Already standing in front of their chairs on one side of the table were three other suited figures. Kelly strolled to the other side and continued walking until he reached the far end of the table. Kat then followed Kelly and took the chair next to him while Skulls sat next to her and Racetrack took the seat next to the other end of the table. Jackson then sat at that end of the table in the chair next to Racetrack while the other figures across the way took their seats.

Once everyone appeared to be settled in, Jackson glanced at each of the Colonials and said, "As I said before in the docking bay, my name is Malcolm Jackson. I'm a Senior Captain in the Alliance of Planets' space defense and exploration force. We refer to our organization as the Fleet. The officer to my immediate right is Lt. Commander Lena Stenger. Next to her is Doctor Ian Dalle. Dr. Dalle is a physician and a full commander of the Fleet. Finally, on the other side of the doctor is Senior Captain Denzel Adu, the Executive Officer of this vessel. Senior Captain Diana Adu is currently in the control center of the vessel on watch, so she is unable to attend this meeting in person. However, she can interact with us via the camera feed from this room to her location."

When Jackson appeared to have completed his round of introductions, Kelly cleared his throat. "My name is Aaron Kelly. I'm a captain in the Fleet of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. To my immediate right is Lt. Louanne Katraine. On her right is Lt. Hamish McCall and on his right is our pilot, Lt. Margaret Edmonson."

"Thank you for introducing the members of your party, Captain Kelly."

"Likewise, Senior Captain Jackson. I'm curious, though, about your organization's rank structure. In the Colonial Fleet, a 'captain' would be in charge of a section while a commander is in command of a capital ship."

Jackson nodded. "That's very interesting, Captain. Our rank structure in the Alliance of Planets' Fleet is rather complicated. We have space navy captains and our marines also have captains."

"That is interesting," Kelly noted. "We also have marines in the Colonial Fleet."

Jackson smiled at the Colonial officer. "Well, in our fleet, a marine captain is a lower rank than a navy captain and is equivalent to a navy lieutenant. In our navy, a captain is usually in command of a space station or a capital ship. A commander or lieutenant commander usually is in command of a non-capital ship or functions as the executive officer of a capital ship and a direct report to the ship's captain."

Kat turned to Kelly and asked, "Sir, may I ask a few questions?"

Kelly smiled at her and said, "Of course, Lieutenant. Fire away!"

"Thank you, sir," she said to Aaron then turned to Jackson. "Senior Captain Jackson, our fleet has the rank of colonel who functions as the executive officer for our capital ships. Do you have the role of Commander Air Group on your ships? Also, we have senior officers who command a task force or a fleet of ships we call 'admirals.' Do you have them as well?"

"Well, to answer your questions, Lieutenant, in our organization, colonels are ground force officers. We don't have that rank in our navy. We do, though, have admirals and they serve apparently the same function in our navy as they do in yours. As for CAGs, we have those, as well; however, they only serve on ships that are designed to carry aerospace fighters and bombers. A ship like the _Huntress, _for instance, would not have a CAG because she does not carry aerospace fighter craft."

While Kat pondered the fact that the Thirteenth Tribe appeared to compartmentalize their aerospace fighter capabilities far more extensively than her people did, Kelly, once more, became the diplomat. "Thank you for clearing all of that up for us, sir. Also, I wanted to thank you for speaking to us in Caprican. That is very accommodating of you."

The other man smiled through his faceplate. "You're quite welcome, Captain Kelly. Fortunately, during our encounter with your _Raptor_ yesterday, we used a…device that enables us to translate your language nearly instantaneously and allows us to speak to you in your own language. It's almost seamless, though, at times, if we run across a new word or concept, it may need to sample some of your conversations a few times before it can get it right."

"So," Racetrack asked, "your people don't speak Caprican or any of the other languages of our colonies?"

"No, Lieutenant Edmonson," the woman directly across the table from Racetrack said. "We use a language that's an amalgam of several old Earth languages and a few non-human languages we call 'universal.' We needed to come up with a common tongue that everyone, including the non-human members of the Alliance, could use to communicate with one another."

Kat's right eyebrow shot up when she heard that. "So, Skulls was right? You do associate with…aliens?"

Senior Captain Adu chuckled and said, "Well, the politically correct term we use these days is non-human, but, yes, we have Alliance members from dozens of different species." Then he turned to regard one of the camera lenses on the wall and said, "Diana, please show them a hologram of a Hrruban."

"Here we are, Denzel," the woman whose accent sounded like Baltar's said over one of the speakers in the room before a 3-D image of a huge, catlike creature standing on its hind legs with impressive claws and a pair of saber teeth that looked like they could easily rip a person to shreds floated in the air above the table. The image of the creature seemed so lifelike, Kat's guts twisted the way her remote ancestors had when a creature like that had stalked outside the entrance of their cave.

"This," Senior Captain Adu noted, "is the most populous member of the Alliance next to the human race. They are the Hrrubans and are the other originating member of the Alliance along with humanity."

"A-are they friendly?" Margaret stammered.

Adu simply shrugged. "But, of course! They've been humanity's partner for more than a thousand years or so. They're beautiful people, quite peaceful unless someone tries to attack them. Then, well, all bets are off."

As the image faded away, Kat was never happier to see something go. Then she gathered up her courage and asked, "How many settled worlds do you have in your alliance?"

Adu answered her question rapidly. "There are a hundred and fifty-five member worlds and nearly fifteen hundred colony worlds in the Alliance."

"Y-you've got almost seventeen hundred planets in your alliance?" Skulls sputtered.

"Yes," said Adu.

Kelly then took up the thread. "How many of your worlds are settled by humanity?"

"Well, a lot of our planets have various members of the Alliance who coexist together. However, the vast majority are planets where the overwhelming majority of citizens belong to one particular species due to that species' ability to acclimate to the planet's ecosystem. With that in mind, I'd say…" Adu then paused and turned to regard the camera again. "Diana, can you provide a percentage for Captain Kelly?"

"Of course, Denzel," she said. "Based on the last census, fifty-eight percent of the Alliance's population is human. That represents a total of nearly six trillion people."

Kat's head swam in darkness and she nearly fainted when she'd heard that. Six trillion people! What the frak?! Her people had fled from their homes believing that unless they found the Thirteenth Tribe, they were the last humans in the universe. Now they were being told by these people that the entire population of their twelve colonies was barely a single drop in the veritable ocean of humanity!

As she chanced a glimpse at each of her shipmates, Kat saw both Margaret and Kelly turning green while Skulls' face paled. Meanwhile, the Thirteenth Tribe's members simply waited patiently until someone in her party recovered their wits. Apparently, it turned out to be her because she managed to say, "But, you're just one tribe! Until the Cylons nearly wiped us all out, our colonies only had twenty billion people. How could you manage to have expanded so much in the last two thousand years?"

"We wanted to ask you about these Cylons and why you refer to us as a 'tribe.' But before we go down that road, we need to accomplish a few things. We'd like to send two of you to meet with one of our admirals so you can tell him about your people's plight. Meanwhile, the Doctor, Lena, and I were hoping your _Raptor's_ flight crew could transport us to your fleet. We'd like to meet with your senior leadership to arrange for humanitarian assistance for your people and to assess your situation from a security standpoint on our side. So, to get the ball rolling, Dr. Dalle needs to perform a few medical scans on each of you and to inoculate the officers who will travel to see our admiral in a nearby system."

"What does this 'scan' and this 'inoculation' entail?" Kelly asked.

The doctor stood up and lifted something that appeared to look like a suitcase onto the table. "This room has been sterilized and the air is completely free of bacteria or viruses. Those who will remain on this ship, please remove your helmets. I will wave this device," he then lifted a small machine out of the case, "over you and take some readings. Then I will use this hypo," he placed the device down and removed a item that looked like a hypodermic needle without the needle and held it up for their inspection, "to give you medicine that will protect you from catching anything from us and potentially infecting your people. When we leave for your mother ship, your immune system will be fully protected and you'll be able to leave on the ship you saw in the docking bay to meet our admiral."

Kelly grimaced at the doctor and then shot a look at Kat. She nodded to him and they both reached up and detached their helmets. The doctor then passed the device over their bodies as well as the bodies of Racetrack and Skulls for several minutes before he returned to Aaron's and her side to press a different hypo device against each of their necks. After he removed the device from her neck, she marveled at the fact that she'd felt nothing. Indeed, the only indication she had that something had occurred was a slight hissing noise she heard. Now the Doctor smiled at them both and said, "You two can keep your helmets off and you can remove your suits after we leave. You won't need them anymore."

After they'd thanked the doctor, Jackson said, "Captain Kelly, Lieutenant Katraine, we'd like you to spend three days with our fleet while my party spends three days with yours. After that, both parties shall return to this ship which will remain in orbit above the planet below to facilitate the meeting between your people and ours. Now once my party returns from your fleet, we'll immediately contact our superiors and arrange for supplies and warships, if your leadership decides to take us up on our offer, to protect your people."

Kelly narrowed his eyes at the other man. "To protect us…from what?"

"As Diana told your flight crew yesterday, the Sakqua is another non-human race we've only recently encountered. We don't know much about them but we believe their race originated in another quadrant of the galaxy humanity has yet to explore. At this very moment, we have hundreds of scout ships searching for their planets. In the meantime, we've gathered elements of our fleet to take the fight to the Sakqua, to force them to end their war against humanity and to negotiate a peaceful resolution to this conflict."

"Can you tell us more about these creatures?" Kelly asked.

Jackson nodded. "Of course." Then he turned to the nearest camera and asked, "Diana, can you project an image of a Sakqua for us."

"Right away, Malcolm," she said. A heartbeat later, another 3-D image floated above the table. This time it was an incredibly lifelike hologram of a six-legged, two-armed centauroid with a bulging cranium as its head set on top of a toothy snout. The deadly mouth of razor sharp teeth, though, wasn't the most troubling thing about it in Kat's view. Instead, what truly frightened her about the thing were its eyes, eyes possessing a fearsome intelligence that didn't belong in the face of something so savage.

After the image had faded away, Jackson said, "The Sakqua never attempted to communicate with us. Eight of their vessels, perhaps three times the size of our small scout ships like the one in the _Huntress' _docking bay, just transitioned out of hyperspace an astronomical unit away from one of our planets and fired nearly a thousand thermonuclear missiles at it. Fortunately, a Fleet flotilla and one of our orbital stations managed to stop all the missiles before they reached the planet. We destroyed seven of their ships and our marines boarded the last one before the ship could be scuttled and captured a few of them. Though they're obviously aggressive, an interesting aspect of their culture we discovered during our interrogation of the prisoners appears to be they don't understand the concept of lying. None of the prisoners even contemplated subterfuge or withholding information from us. Another thing we discovered, although extremely intelligent, each prisoner only knew enough information to perform their particular function on their ship. Finally, we found no females on their vessel. In fact, the Sakqua appear not to understand the possibility of females existing in their society even though biologically they must have females involved in the reproductive cycle." Jackson paused for a moment and sighed deeply. "In either event, if the Sakqua run across your fleet and discovers your ships are filled with humans, they won't hesitate to attack you."

As the Colonials all contemplated what Jackson had just told them about this new potential threat to their fleet, the man then asked, "So can you tell us who or what are these Cylons and why were you searching for us?"

Kelly seemed to gather his courage before he began to tell their tale. "Our most sacred scrolls say the Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol, the cradle of mankind, more than two thousand years before the other twelve tribes left to establish the Twelve Colonies. The twelve tribes were driven away by the Lords of Kobol who'd grown weary of the warring and bickering between the tribes of man. Twelve tribes traveled together and settled in the Helios quadnary star system and, over time, settled the twelve habitable planets and moons in the system to form the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. The Thirteenth Tribe had forged a different path and sought its destiny in this direction to settle on a planet called…Earth."

Jackson stared at Kelly for several seconds before he said, "Earth is the capital of the Alliance of Planets. However, Earth, I'm sorry to say to you all, is also the birthplace of humanity, not Kobol."

Jackson's words hit each of the Colonials in their guts like a centurion's fist. "B-but, that can't be!" sputtered Kat. "Humanity originated on Kobol!"

"I'm afraid that's not so," Lena Stenger said. "We have extensive biological and historical data dating back over millions of years that proves mankind evolved on Earth."

While Kat and her people were completely gobsmacked by this revelation, Jackson gazed at them all with a sympathetic look. "It's clear to us this news is distressing to you. We want you to know it was not our intent to call your sacred works into question. I think it is probably a better idea for us to table this topic until we've had an opportunity to discuss it with your senior leadership and arrange for a representative from our Planetary Affairs Office to address the matter with your people in an appropriate manner. Now, I'd like to know who or what are these 'Cylons?'"

Kelly shook his head, possibly to attempt to erase the memory of the past few minutes, before he focused on Jackson's face. "It's probably more appropriate for you to have an in-depth discussion about the Cylons with our fleet's leadership, Senior Captain Jackson. However, I will tell you what I can about them. They're machines. They were an artificial intelligence project that went very, very wrong. An industrialist from one of our colonies created the Cylons to handle the tasks humans believed were too dangerous or too demeaning to do. Unfortunately, the machines somehow became sentient."

A look of doubt crossed Stenger's face. "Your AIs became sentient? We've had AIs for at least a thousand years. Not once in all that time did ours ever approach sentience."

"Yeah, well, lucky you," Kat grumbled.

Kat piped down when Kelly shot her a hard look. Then he continued his story. "In fact, Commander Stenger, the Cylons actually adopted a religion a few of our people practice. Most of the people in the colonies abhorred this religion because it espouses the worship of one god rather than the pantheon of gods which is common amongst the Twelve Tribes. However, for some reason, this monotheistic religion appealed to the machines. Soon after, the Cylons rebelled against humanity claiming that we had enslaved them. They launched a terrible war against the Colonies that lasted twelve long years. Forty one years ago, the war ended in a stalemate and both sides stopped the war and signed an armistice treaty."

"You signed just an armistice?" Stenger noted. "Not a peace treaty?"

Kelly nodded. "That's right. Basically the only thing both sides agreed to was a cease fire and a demarcation line. After the treaty was signed, every Cylon left the colonies and withdrew behind the demarcation line. For forty years, we never saw them or heard from them again until a year ago when they wiped out our colonies in a single day."

Both Diana and Lena gasped at that revelation. "How did you suffer such a devastating defeat? How did they overcome your defenses?" Lena asked.

"It seems," Kelly said with a hollow smile, "the Cylons 'evolved.' They created models that look like humans and mimic us. They used these new models to infiltrate and cripple our defense systems to the point the Cylons were able to shut down every warship and defense station in the fleet through a back door they'd installed in our networked computer systems. Then they destroyed nearly every warship and almost all of our crippled aerospace fighters before they carpet bombed each habitable planet and moon with thermonuclear devices."

"W-why…that…that's ghastly! You were defenseless and they didn't ask you to surrender?"

Kelly shook his head. "We offered to surrender, Diana. They never responded to our pleas."

"You're saying they continued to rain weapons of mass destruction down on your worlds? They were so callous, so cruel they thought nothing of killing every living creature in your biospheres?" Diana wondered.

"They're machines, Diana," Skulls said lowly. "Caring for anything other than themselves probably isn't in their programming."

The room fell quiet for several moments as everyone tried to fathom the extent of the devastation the Twelve Colonies had suffered at the hands of the Cylons. Then Denzel broke the silence and asked, "You said they destroyed every warship yet you four are here now. Apparently a portion of your military was able to survive the holocaust."

Kat shot a hard look at the man. "That's right! The fra—I mean the Cylons managed to miss two of our warships. One ship survived because she's so old, her crew didn't install the program the Cylons had used to shut the other ships down. The other avoided destruction when her crew barely managed to escape from the station where she'd been docked during the attack."

"Denzel!" Diana scolded. Then she said, "Lieutenant Katraine, please forgive my…colleague for causing you any distress. I'm certain he didn't mean to challenge you regarding the tragedy that befell your people."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. My… colleague is right, that wasn't my intent. Please accept my apologies."

Kat nodded at the man. "No harm done," she lied.

Dalle then spoke up. "I have a question. If these Cylons managed to infiltrate your society by mimicking humans, are they the only model Cylons in operation at the present time?"

"No, Doctor," Kelly said. "They have fighting machines made of metal and circuits called centurions. Their aerospace fighter craft are piloted by biological machine intelligences and their carrier ships, we call them 'basestars,' are controlled by a creature that is half human/half machine called a 'hybrid.'"

"Just how did you uncover this information about the makeup of the Cylons' war machine, Captain Kelly?" Jackson asked.

"Well, sir, one of the Cylons that mimics us apparently defected to our side. She has provided most of this information about their society to us."

"So…" Jackson asked, "if you have one of these machines that mimics a human in your fleet, could there be more?"

Kelly hesitated for a moment before he admitted, "That's a distinct possibility, sir."

Jackson shot a look at the doctor then Stenger before he returned his focus back on Kat and her people. "Captain, Lieutenants, as representatives of the Alliance of Planets, we assure you the Alliance deeply sympathizes with your people over the tragedy you have suffered. We also assure you we'd like to help you as much as possible so long as we can protect the Alliance from infiltration by your enemy, the Cylons. I would like Dr. Dalle, when we arrive at your fleet, to discuss the matter of the Cylons with your medical personnel and to work on finding a way to uncover any Cylon infiltrators before we move your fleet under the protection of our guns at our closest base." Suddenly Jackson glanced down at the chronometer on his wrist before he turned his gaze onto Racetrack and focused on her like a laser. "Lt. Edmonson!"

Racetrack apparently couldn't help it, she responded like a new recruit to an order from her drill instructor. "Sir!"

"Do you think you can transport my party to your mother ship?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then let's go, Lieutenant!"

"Yes, sir!" she barked.

Jackson and his party stood, gathered their gear and prepared to lead Racetrack and Skulls back to the docking bay. Before they departed, he turned to Kelly and Kat. "See you in three days, Captain Kelly, Lieutenant Katraine."

While Kelly nodded at the Fleet officer, Kat smiled and said, "Good luck, sir."

He returned her smile with one of his own and said, "The same to you, Lieutenant Katraine."

Then he opened the hatch and led Racetrack, Skulls and his party into the corridor outside the conference room.

#

**Thank you for choosing to read this story and for your reviews. They help me improve the story and are greatly appreciated. **


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**CIC of the BATTLESTAR GALACTICA – COLONIAL FLEET**

"DRADIS contact!" Lt. Felix Gaeta reported. "IFF squawks as Racetrack's bird."

In response, Colonel Saul Tigh picked up the intercom phone and announced, "All hands, this is the XO! Deck condition two throughout the ship. I repeat—deck condition two throughout the ship!"

After the XO had placed the phone back in its cradle, Admiral William Adama glanced up at the DRADIS screen. He noticed the plot of Racetrack's _Raptor _was fairly close to the pair of _Vipers _flying CAP. "Dee, get me Racetrack on the horn," he said.

Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla flipped several switches on her console and said, "You're on, Admiral."

Adama activated his microphone and said, "_Raptor_ 841, this is _Galactica _Actual."

_"Actual, this is 841. Admiral, Skulls and I have brought three guests home with us. We're all wearing environment suits and our guests are unarmed, I repeat, our guests are unarmed."_

He shot a guarded look at Tigh for several moments before he keyed the mike and said, "Message received and understood, 841. Proceed to the landing bay and I'll see you in the barn, over?"

_"Roger that, Actual. Raptor 841 proceeding to landing bay, over and out."_

After Racetrack had signed off, Adama turned to Dualla and said, "Tell the _Viper _CAP to escort Racetrack's ship in. Then call the Master-at-Arms. Tell Hadrian I want the Alert Guard in the hangar deck in five minutes. Tell her to make damn certain that Gunny Sergeant Mathias is leading the Alert Guard." Adama wanted to have the marine who performed so well during the mission to the Guardian Basestar on this assignment rather than Hadrian. He still hadn't forgiven the First Sergeant for the witchhunt she conducted during her investigation of the explosion caused by that Cylon skinjob, Doral. Perhaps, when he had the time, he might decide to transfer Hadrian to be the Master-at-Arms for the _Pegasus_ and promote Mathias into that role for the Old Girl.

"Aye, sir," Dee said.

"Saul," he tossed over his shoulder as he started for the hatch leading out of the CIC, "you're with me. Mr. Gaeta, you have the CIC."

"Aye, sir, I have the CIC," Gaeta repeated as the two old warriors exited the room at a brisk pace.

As the two men rushed down the passageway, Adama said, "I want you to go to Hadrian and tell her I want the brig to be ready to receive our guests."

"The brig, Bill?"

"Yeah, Saul. Until we determine this isn't a Cylon trick, the brig's the safest place on the ship to keep them. We can control access to the area and isolate it if they turn out to be a danger to the ship."

"Understood, sir," Tigh said before he veered off down a corridor that branched to the left while the Admiral continued on to the hangar deck.

#

**PORT HANGAR DECK - BATTLESTAR GALACTICA – COLONIAL FLEET**

"Those look like automatic carbines to me, Malcolm. They kind of remind me of the ancient Belgium FN Herstal PS90 of pre-Imperial Earth," Lena Stenger observed.

Jackson gazed out through the _Raptor's _windscreen and nodded. He knew better than to argue with the woman about any firearm. After all, she was most likely the best sniper in Fleet Intelligence. "I think you're right, Lena. Since they've mastered artificial gravity on their vessels, they probably figured it's more efficient to use firearms rather than energy weapons."

Racetrack gasped and whirled in her seat to glare at him. "What the frak?! Energy weapons? What the hell are you talking about, sir?'"

"You know, Lieutenant Edmonson, lasers, plasma weapons, pulse rifles…" He paused when he saw her wide-eyed look of astonishment. "And…I think it's evident from the expression on your face that you people don't have energy weapons."

"You've got that right, sir!" Skulls answered for his still apoplectic pilot. "We've only dreamed of stuff like that in sci-fi movies!"

"Actually, Skulls," Stenger said, "our ground forces still use firearms along with pulse rifles when they're planetside. Trust me, a bullet fired from a firearm or a pulse rifle can kill you just as dead as a laser beam or a plasma charge."

"That's right, Lena," Jackson noted. "That's something we all should remember because the firearms those troopers out there are pointing our way can ruin our day. So let's take it nice and slow so they don't have to prove how lethal their weapons are, all right?"

All of the occupants of the small craft murmured their agreement with Jackson's sentiment. Then Racetrack pointed out a man who was approaching their craft. "Hey! Admiral Adama has just arrived!"

Jackson stared at the man who'd captured the pilot's attention. The man was of medium height and medium build with a small paunch in his stomach and appeared to be pushing sixty. The Admiral had a craggy face, far more pock-marked than the face of the troubleshooter for the Secretary of Planetary Affairs, Alfano had been. He was dressed in a dark blue pair of pants and a double-breasted tunic which overlapped toward his right side and was secured by a column of buttons. Jackson noticed the man wore what appeared to be a pair of wings over the breast pocket on the left side of the man's tunic.

"Is he the senior military commander of your fleet?" Dalle asked.

"Yes, Doctor," said Skulls.

The Admiral gave Racetrack some sort of signal and the _Raptor _jock activated a switch on her console. "I'm opening the hatch," she explained. "The Old Man wants us out on the deck."

"All right, people," Jackson said, "let's not do anything stupid because the Fleet doesn't like it when we bring its environmental suits home with bullet holes in them. Besides, I hate being stuck with filling out the paperwork; it's a real bitch," he joked. "Seriously, make damn certain we don't do anything those grunts might consider as hostile. Now Lieutenants Edmonson and McCall, please exit the craft first and move directly toward your admiral. We'll wait for you to reach his side before we attempt to leave your craft. This way, you won't get hurt if something goes wrong."

"But, sir—" Margaret exclaimed; however, Jackson immediately cut her off.

"I don't want to hear it, Lieutenant!" he admonished. "You're the ride home for both Captain Kelly and Lieutenant Katraine, not to mention us! So I don't want either of you to stop a bullet, you've got that?"

Margaret Edmonson regarded him with a look that said if he'd asked her to do it, she'd storm the gates of Hades for him. "Aye, sir."

He nodded to her, touched by her faith in him. "Okay, you two. Get going. We'll see you outside."

Still reluctant to leave, the pair of Colonial officers moved toward the hatch. Moments later, they exited the craft, stepped onto the wing and climbed down onto the deck.

Now Jackson turned to his companions and said, "I'll go first. Lena, you stay inside behind cover until I let you know it's safe to come out. Doctor, I want you to follow Lena. Remember, no sudden movements; these people have suffered through a lot," he noted as he recalled what Kelly had told them. "They're probably on the edge; so let's play it safe."

"Don't worry, Malcolm," Lena said, "we'll follow your lead."

He flashed a smile at her then drew himself up, took a deep breath, exhaled and strode toward the open hatch. Exiting the craft, he stepped out onto the _Raptor's _wing and approached its leading edge to climb down onto the deck. Suddenly, he heard the SNAP of weapons being raised into firing position as the sound reverberated throughout the vast hangar bay.

"Marines, hold!" the craggy-faced officer barked.

Jackson tamped down the temptation to glare at the ebony-clad soldiers to see if they'd complied with the elder man's command while he continued his descent. Once he stood upon the deck, he turned to face the pockmarked-faced man and smiled. "I am Senior Captain Malcolm Jackson of the Alliance of Planets. My superior, Vice Admiral Amato, sent me here to welcome you on behalf of both the Alliance and the people of Earth."

The other man stared at him and said, "I am Admiral William Adama of the fleet of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

Jackson blinked twice. For people who spoke a derivative of Ancient Greek, they certainly had names that were quite common to current-day Alliance humanity! William, Margaret, and Louanne certainly weren't found in the Hellenic language on Earth.

Then the Admiral continued his introduction, derailing Jackson's train of thought. "Thank you for your warm welcome, Senior Captain Jackson. We appreciate your coming to the Battlestar _Galactica _to meet us. We'd like for your party to accompany me and these marines who are here to ensure your security," Adama indicated the black clad guards with a glance, "to continue our discussion in a more private setting."

Jackson almost grinned at the Admiral's choice of words. _Well, that's certainly a nice way of saying his guards won't shoot us out of hand before he throws us in the brig! I'm certain he'll have us cool our heels there until he's had the opportunity to debrief his flight crew to determine if we're legit! _ he mused. Then he said, "Admiral, we'd be happy to accompany you as soon as the other members of my party have joined us. Lena? Doctor? You can come out now."

Thirty seconds later, both of his companions stood by his side. "Admiral, may I introduce Lieutenant Commander Lena Stenger," he indicated with a nod to the smaller suited figure next to him, "and the gentleman beside her is Dr. Ian Dalle. The doctor is both a physician and a Commander in the Fleet. The Fleet is what we call the Alliance's interstellar exploration and military force. Dr. Dalle is here to coordinate with your medical personnel to see to the nutritional and medical needs of your people. The Doctor shall also coordinate with our people once we return to our ship inside the nebula to arrange for the delivery of immediate humanitarian aid for your fleet while we negotiate with you to determine when it would be appropriate to move your vessels to our base of operations in this sector."

A tiny smile dawned on the Admiral's face. "That's quite thoughtful of your, Vice Admiral Amato, was it, to have assigned a physician as a member of your party, Senior Captain, to address our needs."

"Think nothing of it, sir. Based on the briefing we received from your Captain Kelly, I have been instructed to say that both the Alliance and the people of Earth express their heartfelt sympathies for the tragedy that has befallen your people at the hands of the Cylons."

The man seemed to choke up for a moment before he said, "Thank you, Senior Captain."

"Admiral, just to make it easier for you, please call me 'captain.' We only use the term 'senior' within the Fleet to determine the chain of command during fleet operations. I should also tell you that in the Alliance's space navy, a captain is the senior commander of a capital vessel similar to your 'battlestar.' As for Lena, it is customary to refer to her as 'commander' and to drop the 'lieutenant' designation during day-to-day interactions with her. Last, but not least, although Dr. Dalle is an officer of the Fleet, it's customary to refer to him as 'doctor.'"

"That is good to know, Captain," Adama said with a smile. "Now would you please come with us?"

"Admiral, before we accompany you, may I respectfully request that Dr. Dalle be allowed to bring his Med-kit with him? It is a kind of carry-all that contains medical diagnostic and treatment equipment as well as a variety of medicines. The doctor can use the equipment, for instance, to sample the environment aboard this vessel to determine if it's safe for both you and us to remove our environmental suits. Of course, Dr. Dalle would be happy to share his findings with your chief medical officer before we'd risk any exposure to either party."

Adama glared at him for several moments before he sighed deeply. "Permission granted, Captain."

"Thank you, sir," Jackson said before he directed Dalle to retrieve the Med-kit. Then when Dalle had returned with the case from the small craft, Adama and the marines escorted the trio of Fleet officers off the _Galactica's _hangar deck.

#


	7. Chapter 7

**INTERLUDE: 'The Best Laid Schemes O' Mice An' Centaurs…'**

"The vanguard is nearly complete," Subaltern Lord Brakar assured the Minor Lord who commanded their strongholds. "We await the arrival of a greater eights of the fastholds that Lord Shihak has dispatched from the Foremost Lodge before we move on the target crèche-hunter world."

Brakar's force of strongholds, fastholds, venturers, rovers and spotters were cruising at sub-light speeds just outside the cluster where the crèche-hunter's most populous world was located. Concealed in the vastness of space in an area where the sole stellar body was a burnt out dark star, the Sakqua believed their vessels were safe from the prying eyes of the infernal crèche-hunters.

Now one of the vanguard's spotters that happened to be under the command of a novice sub-chieftan was speeding toward them beseeching the vanguard for assistance. Apparently, the gamin's ship was fleeing from a crèche-hunter vessel that seemed to possess 'arcane powers.' Brain-addled nestling.

Brakar muttered a request to the vanguard's Reckoner. In response, the Reckoner directed a dozen or so venturers to intercept the intruding crèche-hunter ship. They had to eliminate that ship before it could escape and warn the crèche-hunters about the vanguard's presence. Brakar fervently hoped that the venturers could destroy that ship. If not, he'd have no other choice but to launch the offensive either to destroy the population on the target planet or cripple its defenses, allowing Lord Shihak's Minor Hunt force, which followed closely on the vanguard's heels, to strike the death blow to the crèche-hunters' world.

**Chapter 7 **

**F.S. ****_Witchcraft _****– Void between the Xanadu Cluster and the Gamma Quadrant**

"Wow," Commander Macklin Brown of the Fleet said woodenly. "The specs they gave us for those naval rifles don't do them justice."

Lt. Commander Sarah Nelson's electronic lenses simply stared at what was left of the rogue moon's surface after she'd tested her new spaceframe's A-Potential rifle turret. Rather than shaving ten meters of granite from the top of one of its mountains, the entire mountain range had been obliterated by energy drawn directly from the Dirac Sea that underlay hyperspace.

"Are you impressed by those...those...obscenities, Mack?" she stammered.

"Hell, yeah, I'm impressed! Aren't you?"

"Not really," she lied. "This beast is extreme overkill, if you ask me. The _Olympus_-class suits me far better than being installed into this…this juggernaut!"

Mack shook his head and managed to hold his tongue. They'd begun the shakedown cruise nearly a month ago yet Sarah continued to harp about her dislike of the dedicated warship hull and just wouldn't let it go.

In the past, brain ships were normally no larger than a _Visby_-class corvette. Sarah's prior spaceframe, an _Olympus_-class long range scout, was a little smaller than a corvette.

However, when the Adu's had proven that a brain ship had the ability to control a stealthy and deadly warship that could go toe-to-toe with a standard Fleet light cruiser, Vice Admiral Amato had decided to plug Sarah into one of the _Sorceress-_class hunter-killer destroyer hull shells. The _Sorceress_ had all the bells and whistles to make it a deadly killing machine. She was armed with fusion and anti-matter missiles, A-Potential rifles, twin plasma cannons mounted in fore and aft turrets, plasma torpedoes designed to destroy fixed positions or slow moving vessels, as well as being clad in the Alfa proof, self-replicating ablative armor that also absorbed sensor waves to allow the ship to stalk its prey in the cold depths of outer space.

Just as he was certain she was going to go on another tiresome rant about how they'd shoehorned her into this tub without a 'how-do-you-do,' Sarah startled him by announcing, "Hey, Mack? Something just dropped out of hyperspace nearby."

He strode to the viewscreen to study the image he saw there. Then he turned toward her control column. "Sarah, please give me a detailed scan of the object."

"Here it is, Mack," she muttered, her response sounding from console speakers that mimicked the speaking voice of her old body. While she cruised toward the target at .25 c, Sarah interpreted the incoming data. "Sensors say it's too small to be a ship." Moments later, she announced, "Got it! It's a distress torpedo. Give me a minute and we'll be in the torpedo's transmission range."

As she closed on the torpedo, another transition wake congealed .1 AU away from the _Witchcraft._ A sliver of a ship bearing the same alien markings and configuration as one of the ship's that had attacked the Schlein Gamma system several months ago emerged from the anomaly. Its arrival displaced vast amounts of stardust that swept across the sensors embedded along _Witchcraft's_ hull like the water that had flowed around Sarah's long lost body when she had competed on her Academy swim team. "Hey, it's one of those Sakqua ships that tried to nuke Xanadu!"

"Talk to me, Sarah. Have they noticed us yet?"

"Their weapons are hot but they're ignoring us. They're going after the torpedo."

Mack pursed his lips. "That's odd. Maybe they're hunting that torpedo. It's got to be one of ours-they wouldn't try to kill one of their own."

"The torpedo is transmitting…now." She decoded the message then reported, "According to this, a freighter in route from the mining colony at Frietag Gamma Seven to Xanadu was attacked by the Sakqua vessel, the very one we have on our scope."

Suddenly, the other ship veered away from the torpedo and raced off into the void.

"We've been made!"

"Yeah, but you know what? I think this is our lucky day. If Admiral Amato wants us to engage in a live fire exercise, why not do our part to help the war effort at the same time?"

She mentally shrugged and said, "I'm game if you are. I guess we're going to play Space Rangers today, 'Rocky.' Plotting intercept course. Engaging…now!"

"I knew I shouldn't have let you watch that ancient pre-Imperium 2-D video series I bought at that antique shop on Port Tau Ceti with me," he grumbled.

One of the many things the _Sorceress_-class could do the _Olympus_-class could not was the _Sorceress'_ faster acceleration to maximum pursuit velocity. As she pushed the ship to .5c, the maximum speed she'd use in normal space to avoid time dilation problems, she asked, "I wonder why he hasn't tried to transition into hyperspace? If he did that, he'd force me to attempt to establish a tracer lock."

He simply shrugged and said nothing as they continued their stern chase.

Seven hours later, the _Witchcraft_ had almost reeled in the fleeing vessel. After battle analysis at Xanadu had determined the Sakquan inertialess drive was appreciably slower than the Fleet's magnetic drive. The lizards' best speed in real space was .35c and that allowed Sarah to make up the difference in a relatively short period of time.

While he activated the weapon systems, she switched the viewscreen from tracking to tactical mode. Just then the DEW proximity klaxons blared throughout the _Witchcraft's_ hull. On her long range scanners, Sarah detected another ship four times distant than the target ship they'd been chasing. A moment later, another two ships were plotted on their tactical screen, followed by several more vessels. Thirty seconds later, their scanner revealed enough to show there were hundreds of vessels, many the size of Fleet heavy cruisers, in a globular holding pattern out here in the middle of nowhere. And here Mack and she were running hell bent for leather right smack into the middle of a formation of Sakquan vessels that were rapidly coming up to speed and activating their targeting scanners!

"I'm switching inertial dampeners to maximum! Beginning deceleration procedure—"

"Wait a second!" he yelped. "We can't just let the guy we've been chasing go Scot free!"

"Oh yeah? Watch me! We've got to survive, return to Xanadu and warn Amato about the Sakqua formation."

"Look, we've got one shot at that enemy raider."

"I said, we're leaving…" Then she fell silent as her rangefinder pinged, signaling she'd obtained a lock-on. Suddenly, he launched a volley. A dull shudder rumbled through her hull as a full salvo of Peregrine torps was released. The brain and her brawn watched as a dozen arrowhead symbols flashed onto the tactical screen, representing the torps that closed on their target at fifty-plus gees.

The Sakqua vessel veered from its escape run and tried to acquire her torpedoes. However, the vessel only had three, perhaps four, lasers that could protect it from Witchcraft's swarm. It was only a matter of time.

Her sensors detected several flashes of laser fire before a Peregrine slipped past the protective streams of high energy and that was all she wrote. The torpedo's 200-kiloton warhead homed in at 100 kilometers per second, piercing screens designed to diffuse particle beams and lasers. It detonated and converted the small ship into superheated plasma in the blink of an eye.

As the flash from the explosion died, she veered their ship hard to starboard and declared, "Well, I hope your single-minded obsession hasn't killed us both, 'Captain Ahab.' Course laid in!" she exclaimed. "We're transitioning to sponge space. By the way, we're going to make one jump followed by a second, I hope."

He eyed her control column when he heard that last part. "What do you mean by, 'I hope?'"

"Just trust me, all right?" she snapped.

"Fine!" he barked just before she rerouted the energy produced within her matter/antimatter reaction chamber into the stardrive located in her aft section and hurtled the ship beyond the barriers of Einstein's relativity into Hermes's realm.

Several seconds later, when she'd reached the half-way point of her plotted course, something forced the ship to drop back into real space as she'd planned. Sarah snapped on her forward sensor array as her sublight velocity increased on its own volition. A titanic force now drew her toward something dead ahead. In the center of her viewscreen, a dark object cleaved a crescent-shaped wound amidst the incandescent stardust. Even more troubling than the dark star's appearance was its hypergravity.

"We're falling toward that thing, aren't we?" he asked.

"Not if I can help it," she growled. "Reversing course! Magnetic drives online, eighty percent maximum output."

She dumped the energy into her aft primary generators and the ship jerked as its drive resisted the dark demon's pull. Although she was no longer approaching it like a bat out of Hell, it still had her hook, line and sinker.

"Eighty-five percent maximum output."

Falling...they were still falling.

"Ninety!" she shouted, not knowing why.

Damn it! It's...still...dragging us in...

"Ninety-two point...seven!"

The _Witchcraft_ slowed to a halt, suspended between free space and the ebony orb. Now Sarah took a second to draw an imaginary deep, cleansing breath and nearly jumped out of her ethereal skin when the proximity alert sounded.

She examined her scanner and announced, "Well, it looks like fifty or so of the lizards' ships managed to trace us here."

The enemy vessels maneuvered to intercept the Fleet destroyer. When the Sakqua flotilla had reached extreme weapons range, it launched a swarm of torpedoes.

"Mack! Enemy ships have launched a spread of torps...they're coming our way!

Sarah immediately turned her focus on dealing with the torps and finding a way out of what she'd intended as a tactic to lose her pursuers. Now it looked as if her maneuver had turned into a death trap. She put all of her nanoprocessors to work on both tasks. Moments later the 'escape' subroutine wormed its way from her CPU's queue first. She reviewed it and cocked both of her phantom eyebrows in disbelief. When the 'torpedo intercept' subroutine followed shortly thereafter, she shrugged inwardly. That result appeared to be quite mad, as well, yet not as harebrained as the first subroutine.

_All right then,_ she mused, torpedoes first. She set the proximity fuses on several Osprey high yield fusion warhead torpedoes and launched them. The weapons accelerated sluggishly as their drives struggled against the dead star's oppressive gravity well. Sarah willed them on, her phantom brow sweating profusely as her mind seemingly pushed them to the intercept point. Then as her torps interdicted the approaching swarm, they exploded, bathing the enemy weapons in nuclear hellfire. The flash of the explosion overloaded her sensors, blinding her for precious moments. So while she waited for the scanners to clear, she charged her laser batteries to prepare for the interception stage of her plan.

Moments later, her ethereal eyes opened wide as Sarah gaped at the target area. Nearly all the enemy torps were destroyed, leaving only a few stragglers. Sarah felt the flutter in her mind ease somewhat as she drilled the remaining torpedoes out of the sky with her lasers.

That last trick with the torpedoes would work only once; the lizards would make certain their next salvo had proper torpedo separation. So she poured every erg of energy into her magnetic drive, pivoted the _Witchcraft's_ bow nearly perpendicular to her orbit and dived.

While the ship plunged toward the dark star, Sarah activated Mack's damper field that pressed the large-framed man deeply into his chair. Mack was a bear of a man, almost six feet six inches tall and two hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle. His seat almost seemed more like it was built for a child when it came to him, however it was far sturdier than it looked.

After she'd secured her brawn from the stress of acceleration that would soon follow, she counted down silently while they stared at the viewscreen and watched the dark star's surface rise ominously toward them. As the screen filled with surface features that sharpened into clarity with each passing moment, the dark star's ebon jaws appeared to open wide to engulf them, offering the promise of a dark, cold grave.

At the end of her countdown, she shouted, "Initiating slingshot trajectory! Magnetic drive at maximum output!"

The _Witchcraft_ danced along the edge of the ebony sphere and scuttled an invisible plane along its event horizon. The ship quivered as her structure almost exceeded her tolerances. Sarah struggled to hold the vessel together, using _Witchcraft's_ structural integrity fields to stave off complete and total disaster. Finally, breakaway occurred, snapping the ship away from the dead star like a slingshot. Soon, _Witchcraft_ was far beyond both the oppressive gravity of her natural nemesis and the weapon systems of her alien foes.

Mack heard the grin in Sarah's voice. "The enemy vessels are on the far side of the dark star, some being dragged down to their destruction, others wallowing in shallow orbits. Maybe a few of them might manage to escape but it'll take them several hours to do it."

He smiled warmly at her control column. "Well, let's not wait around to see if they manage to figure out the trick you just used to escape from that…thing."

"You'll get no argument from me on that, Mack," she drawled.

When they'd soon achieved .5 c and were several AU's away from the demon star, the _Witchcraft_ leaped into hyperspace on a heading to Xanadu. Once they arrived, they'd apprise a certain admiral that the lizards had returned and weren't messing around this time.

Oh, they'd also tell the good admiral the _Sorceress_-class hull shell would do just fine for the both of them from now on.

#


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA – BRIG – COLONIAL FLEET**

Adama studied the three individuals presently cooling their heels inside his brig. He wondered if they truly were who they claimed to be. While they were being held, he had Hadrian examine their gear and had Cottle inspect their physician's medical kit. Neither the marine nor the doctor found anything of interest.

As he continued observing the trio of Fleet officers, he asked Racetrack who stood nearby, "What can you tell me about these people, Margaret?"

"Sir, after we docked in their boat bay, an apparently unarmed Captain Jackson met us and led us to a nearby conference room where the other members of his party and the commander of the _Huntress_ were waiting for us. After some small talk, Captain Kelly asked them how they could speak Caprican so well. They told us, in actuality, they couldn't speak a lick of it. Instead they use a device that translated our words for them and allowed them to translate their thoughts into our language as they spoke to us."

Adama grunted. That sounded both fascinating and alarming all at the same time. "Is the device built into their suits?"

"I'm afraid I haven't a clue, sir. At first, I thought it was some piece of equipment installed inside their conference room. Now, I don't think that's the case since they continue to have the ability to communicate just as effectively here on board the _Galactica." _

"All right then. Please continue."

"Admiral, they showed us holograms of two alien creatures. The first was something they called a Hrruban. It's a large, bipedal cat-like sentient creature with saber teeth. The Hrruban have been allegedly close allies of the Thirteenth Tribe for centuries. The second was a hologram of their current enemy, the Sakqua. Sir, think of a legendary centaur from our sacred scrolls mixed with one of the heads of the hydra who the minor Lord of Kobol, Herakles, defeated. That's the best thing I could come up with to adequately describe one of those…things!"

He fought hard to suppress the shudder he felt at Racetrack's nightmarish depiction of the creature. Then he asked, "Did they give you a sense of the human population of their society?"

"Well…sir," she demurred, "you may find this hard to swallow—it came as quite a shock to us as well when we'd heard it, I can tell you. Anyway, they claim they have six trillion humans spread across hundreds of planets."

The Admiral's eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he'd heard that. Then he shot a sideways glare at the young woman and rasped, "Are you certain you heard that number correctly?"

"That's an affirmative, sir."

Immediately, his gaze snapped back to the Fleet officers confined in his brig. If true, he thought, far from being the last human beings in the galaxy, his Colonial remnant was barely a blip on the screen of the mass of humanity that constituted the Alliance of Planets!

He shook his head, attempting to clear that disturbing thought from his mind. "Is there more?"

"I'm afraid there is, sir. They've arranged to take Kelly and Kat to their nearest base to meet with their admiral. Our officers are then supposed to return to the Thirteenth Tribe's ship inside the nebula in three days. As for our guests, they'll be with us during that time. After that, Skulls and I are to return with Captain Jackson's party and retrieve Kelly and Kat. Additionally, they've committed to provide warships to protect our fleet until Starbuck's mission returns from Caprica."

As he thought about the unpleasant possibility of having an unknown power's warships anywhere near his civilians, Margaret noisily cleared her throat to gain his attention. "What else do you have for me?"

"Sir, there are a few things you need to know about the conversation we had on their ship. Kelly told them about the Cylons and the skinjobs."

A somber look clouded the elder man's face. _Oh well, _he mused, _I suppose that cat is out of the frakking bag! _

"And, sir? Captain Jackson and his party told us they have indisputable proof that Earth is the cradle of humanity, not Kobol."

At that alarming piece of news, a furious Adama wanted to fling the table in the observation room over on its side. However, it wouldn't do to lose his composure in front of a junior officer, so he remained cool. Yet, the grimace on his face plainly showed how concerned he was about the pending conversation with the representatives of the Thirteenth Tribe. If the discussion degenerated into a pissing match over whether Earth rather than Kobol was 'really the cradle of humanity' between them and Roslin, the whole diplomatic initiative could degenerate into a clusterfrak of epic proportions!

"Sir," she said lowly, "it may also interest you to know they claim to have directed energy weapons."

He shot a hard look at the girl and snapped, "You're not yanking my frakking chain with this, are you, Margaret?

She shook her head vigorously. "Absolutely not, sir! Both Captain Jackson and Commander Stenger mentioned it in passing. It's my understanding they have both ship-based and personal directed energy weapons."

After having his entire world view rocked during the past few minutes by his pilot, Adama gathered himself and asked, "Margaret, what does your gut tell you about these people?"

Without any hesitation, she squared her jaw and said, "Sir, I'm impressed by them, especially by Captain Jackson. When he saw our Alert Guard, the Captain ordered my ECO and me to exit the ship ahead of them and to stay out of the line of fire so we'd be able to bring both Kelly and Kat home. And sir, did you notice how the Captain exited my ship first while the rest of his party remained behind cover until he determined it was safe for his party to disembark? Admiral, he's just like you. He places the welfare of his people above himself."

Adama's face didn't show it but he was a bit surprised both at how the girl had gushed over the Fleet captain and at the high opinion she had of himself. Although she was a dedicated pilot, he'd known for some time that Margaret had been so scarred by the destruction of the Colonies by the Cylons, she'd believed she was fated to die in a pyrrhic battle with the toasters. Indeed, that fact had been as plain as the nose on his face after he'd watched the girl's interview with D'Anna Biers.

Now here she was excited due to the thoughtfulness of a Thirteenth Tribe's officer for her well-being. That reflected well on the Alliance of Planet's officer and shamed Adama because he realized she hadn't received that much support from her own leadership.

"Well done, Margaret. Thank you for bringing me up to speed on our guests. While they're aboard the Old Girl, I want you to serve as their liaison officer. Do you think you can handle that?"

She smiled brightly at him. "Yes, sir!"

"All right then. I want you to go to the Life Station and ask Dr. Cottle for a sitrep of the medical tests he's running on them. After they're completed, I'd like you to bring Cottle to me. I'll still be here waiting for you both. If he and I are satisfied that they pass muster, you and the doctor are to escort our guests to the conference room just down the corridor to meet with Commander Adama, Colonel Tigh, President Roslin, and me."

"Yes, sir," Racetrack said before she snapped a sharp salute. Then she turned to exit the room and carry out his orders to the letter.

#

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA – BRIG – COLONIAL FLEET**

"Well, it's not the Hilton," Jackson noted brightly, "but this holding cell isn't so bad. At least they didn't shackle us to the floor."

A somewhat perturbed Dalle grumbled, "I'd agree with you except for the fact they've stuffed us in here like sardines in a can."

As they peered out through the bulletproof glass that enclosed their cell and waited for the ancient warship's physician to complete their blood tests, the Fleet officers knew they were being monitored. However, they weren't concerned about it. They'd  
deactivated their implants' translator application and conversed with one another in universal to avoid providing their 'hosts' any information they weren't ready to disclose at this time.

Lena turned to Dalle and asked, "So, Doctor—"

He cut her off gently and said, "Lena, please, after sharing such close quarters with you and Malcolm, I'd like it if you'd just call me Ian."

Smiling wryly, she said, "Well, I suppose we should forego the formalities then, Ian."

"Thanks. Oh, and I apologize for interrupting you. What was it you wanted to ask me again?"

"What are the Colonials looking for in our blood work?"

Dalle gathered his thoughts for a moment before he answered her. "I don't know but if I had to guess, I'd say they're probably checking our DNA markers to determine if we're human. Once they've determined the first part then they'll check to see how long it's been since people with our markers have cross-bred with theirs."

"What do you mean by that, Ian?" Jackson asked.

"Well if these people are sophisticated enough to travel through interstellar space, they should have the medical capability to determine from their tests that their people haven't mated with ours over several millennia, which is a good thing for us since they're probably looking for something that would reveal we're possible Cylon infiltrators."

"Why do you say that, Ian?" Stenger asked.

"Well, if I were the Cylons and were trying to infiltrate the Colonies, I'd make damn sure my infiltrators' DNA markers were a close match to the Colonials'. If they weren't then it would have been fairly easy for the Colonials to have uncovered the infiltrators through a simple blood test."

Stenger nodded. "I see. So how would you go about the business of uncovering Cylon infiltrators?"

He shook his head and said, "Until I've had the chance to examine either the preserved body of an infiltrator or a live one, I wouldn't have the foggiest notion on how to approach the prob—"

Just then, the guards escorted both Racetrack and the grizzled old physician who served as the ancient warship's chief medical officer into the brig. "Open the door, corporal," the white haired doctor commanded while Jackson gave Dalle and Stenger a discreet signal to reactivate their implants' translation application.

The guard complied, allowing the elder man and Racetrack to enter their cell. "Your blood tests check out," the physician said in his gravelly voice. "And Dr. Dalle? My findings agree with yours. None of you are carrying anything that would endanger my people so I have no objections to you removing those environment suits."

"Thank you, Dr. Cottle."

"Don't mention it," the gruff physician muttered. "The guards will bring in your gear shortly. If you'd prefer, we have a head where you can shower before you change into your clothing. Lt. Edmonson can escort you there."

"That sounds like a good idea, Dr. Cottle," Ian said. "I believe we'll take you up on your generous offer."

Cottle simply grunted and turned to Racetrack while several marines delivered the Fleet officers' duffel bags. "Lieutenant, take them to the pilots' head and make certain you get them some shower sandals, soap and towels for them to use." Then he turned to the three Fleet officers and said, "Now don't go in there and think you're in a gods' damned spa. The Admiral wants you to meet with him forty-five minutes from now."

"All right, Doctor," Jackson said. "Lt. Edmonson, please lead the way."

With that, Jackson's party picked up their gear and followed Cottle and Racetrack out of the cell with two of the marine guards trailing close behind.

#

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA – CONFERENCE ROOM – COLONIAL FLEET**

They showered together in a unisex head, which didn't bother Jackson or apparently Stenger yet clearly agitated Dalle because the Doctor fought hard to avoid staring at a nude Lena and grumbled something that sounded like, "God damn people on this ship have no freaking concept of privacy" under his breath. Afterwards, they dried themselves off in a locker area and changed into their dress uniforms. Soon thereafter, Racetrack and the pair of guards escorted the trio of Fleet officers to a hatchway. Racetrack knocked on the hatch and they heard a muffled command to "Enter." The Colonial lieutenant opened the hatch and led them into the room.

It was a medium-sized conference room, nondescript, with no decorations whatsoever. Inside the room standing at the head of a rectangular table alongside Admiral Adama were another elder man in uniform who was bald on top with white hair on the sides of his skull, a young man in uniform who bore some resemblance to Admiral Adama, and a woman who appeared to be both a little tired and in her early fifties. She wore an attractive business suit that wouldn't have looked out of place on one of Alex's female colleagues. Jackson also noted, by her knee high skirt, that despite her apparent age, the woman had an exquisite pair of legs that would have given Alex's a run for their money.

Admiral Adama stepped forward and announced, "Madame President, I would like to introduce you to Senior Captain Malcolm Jackson, Commander Ian Dalle, and Lt. Commander Lena Stenger of the Alliance of Planets' Fleet. Captain Jackson, Commanders Dalle and Stenger, I would like to introduce you to Laura Roslin, the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

The three Fleet officers saluted the woman crisply and their courtesy was rewarded with a regal nod of her head. "Madame President," Jackson said, "On behalf of the Alliance of Planets, the planet Earth, and my superior officer, Vice Admiral Dennis Amato, the Commanding Officer of this sector of space for the Fleet, we welcome you and your people and offer your fleet the protection of our warships from the Sakqua."

She gave them all a graceful smile and said, "Thank you, Captain Jackson. We appreciate your warm welcome." Then she turned to the Admiral and said, "Admiral Adama, would you please introduce the other members of our party to these fine officers."

"Of course, Madame President," the Admiral said in his gravelly voice. "Captain, Commanders, this gentleman," Adama indicated with a sweep of his hand toward the bald man, "is Colonel Saul Tigh, the Executive Officer of this ship. While this young gentleman," he indicated with a look of pride, "is Commander Leland Adama, the commanding officer of the Battlestar _Pegasus_."

Jackson tried to determine if the two Adamas were truly related in some fashion then decided to put the issue on the back burner for now. Now he and the members of his party shook the hands of the other two men in the room and took the seats on one side of the table while the Colonial officers seated themselves on the opposite side. Finally, President Roslin seated herself at the head of the table close to both Jackson and Admiral Adama.

#

After Admiral Adama had excused Lt. Edmonson from the room, Laura Roslin turned to the dark and handsome Fleet captain and said, "I would like to thank you for your patience and forbearance during your stay in this ship's brig, Captain. I hope you understand we needed to determine you were indeed human and not an attempt by our enemy, the Cylons, to infiltrate us."

"Think nothing of it, Madame President. After all, we understand the prudence of caution after the tragedy that has befallen your people. However, we did want to cover a few items during our initial discussion with you."

A lazy smile dawned on her face. She liked fencing with this smooth-talking, apparently intelligent man! "And, pray tell, what sort of items would you like to cover, Captain?"

He apparently caught onto her word play because he returned her smile. "Well, Madame President, based on the conversation we had with your Captain Kelly aboard our vessel, you're a refugee fleet fleeing from the 'Cylons.' He also mentioned you came looking for your lost 'Thirteenth Tribe.'"

"That's correct, Captain. Our sacred scrolls tell us there were thirteen tribes of man who resided upon the ancestral home of humanity on the planet Kobol. The scrolls say the Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol two thousand years before the other twelve tribes left to form the Colonies. It is said 'the Thirteenth Tribe traveled far and made their home upon a planet called Earth which circled a distant and unknown star.'"

Jackson simply nodded and kept his own counsel for a few moments. Then he sighed heavily. "Madame President, Earth is the capital world of the Alliance of Planets. However, I regret to inform you that Earth is actually humanity's ancestral home, not Kobol."

Laura was stunned by the man's pronouncement. She glanced down the table at Bill, Colonel Tigh, and Apollo and found her feelings were reflected on the faces of two of them. However, Bill had seemed to have taken the man's declaration in stride.

Although she pledged to herself she'd get to the bottom of the little mystery regarding Bill's non-reaction later, she somehow managed to maintain her composure and said to Jackson, "Captain, are you absolutely certain about the veracity of your claim?"

"I'm afraid so, Madame President. We have evolutionary evidence and historical records to prove it. In fact, we have ancient structures that still exist on the face of the Earth today that are almost twelve thousand years old and these structures pre-date the years encompassed by your sacred texts."

"Madame President," Doctor Dalle added, "we have biological and fossil records that show our species has been around for more than a hundred fifty thousand years."

As Laura struggled to overcome this shock to her system, Commander Stenger said, "Madame President, gentlemen, it is not our intent to offend you or to attack the sacred words of your faith. The Captain, the Doctor and I are not theologians; we're unqualified to engage in religious discussions with you. What we **are** here to discuss is the potential threat your fleet faces right now."

"What threat are you referring to," Lee Adama asked, a suspicious look on his face.

"I'm referring to the Sakqua, Commander Adama," Lena said. "The Sakqua is a non-human species we've recently encountered. They are a warm-blooded saurian species similar to one of the ancient species that became extinct on Earth millions of years ago. These creatures have six legs and two arms. They're kind of a centauroid similar, in some respects, to mythological creatures from one of our ancient religions. Several months ago, a few of their vessels dropped out of hyperspace near our most populous world in this sector of space. They never tried to communicate with us. They simply launched hundreds of nuclear missiles at the planet. Fortunately, our meager, at the time, planetary defenses interdicted the missiles and either destroyed or captured the attacking spacecraft. We managed to interrogate some of the prisoners we've captured and have been told these vessels were part of a minor scouting party. We were also told the Sakqua had ships that were larger than the ones that had attacked our world."

"Was there a reason they decided to attack you?" Roslin asked.

"According to our prisoners, a human ship showed up over one of their worlds about ten years ago. They considered that event as an omen their entire species could be exterminated by us, so they decided to strike first. They captured the ship, killed her crew, and studied the vessel to assimilate our technology. Fortunately, the ship was a merchant vessel and possessed neither the armament nor defenses of one of our warships."

"Well, I guess that puts you in same frying pan as us; we know what it's like to have somebody trying to wipe your people out!" Tigh exclaimed.

"It's not the first time someone has tried to take us out," Stenger said coldly, "and we'd like to find a peaceful resolution. However, if we have to bomb them back to the Stone Age to protect the Alliance, well, I'm okay with that. Right now, though, the important thing is your fleet. If the Sakqua happen across your ships, they won't hesitate to attack."

Tigh grunted. "Well, that puts a crimp in my day! We can't leave, Commander. We have to wait here until a flight of our _Raptors _return from its mission."

"Colonel, when do you expect them to return?"

"My best guess? Two to three weeks."

Everyone was silent for several moments before Jackson said, "In that case, I think the prudent thing for us to do is to have Vice Admiral Amato dispatch some warships he can spare to screen your ships until your _Raptors_ find their way home. Unfortunately, my party isn't scheduled to return for another two days, so it may be three days before we can send reinforcements to support your battlestars and aerospace fighters."

"Sir," Lena asked, "may I make a suggestion?"

Jackson smiled at the young woman and said, "Please do."

"Captain, Lt. Edmonson could take me back to the _Huntress _today. Once we're aboard, I can ask Captain Adu to take her ship out of the nebula and transmit a hypercom message to Admiral Amato. With luck, the reinforcements could arrive tomorrow evening."

"That's a great idea, Lena! You've earned your paycheck for the week!"

"I'd rather have earned **your** paycheck for the week, sir," she quipped.

He smirked at her while everyone else in the room chuckled.

Then Jackson turned to Laura and said, "Of course, Madame President, Admiral, sir, we'd anticipate that allowing our warships to join your fleet would be somewhat…uncomfortable for you. Therefore, we're prepared to commit to you our warships would be subject to your direction as the fleet Commander-in-Chief until we can get your vessels under our guns in the Schlein Gamma system."

Laura barely held back the grin that threatened to break out on her face_. Wow_, she mused, _this guy is a shrewd operator!_ Although she knew Bill would be hesitant to allow foreign navy vessels near the fleet, considering the threat posed to them by the Sakqua, not to mention the possibility of a Cylon attack, after Jackson's commitment, she suspected Bill couldn't look this gift horse in the mouth.

Now she smiled warmly at Jackson. "Well, Captain, I must say you've certainly given us a lot to consider."

"I understand, Madame President. My party would be happy to leave the room to allow you and your officers to discuss our proposal amongst yourselves. Before we go, though, I'd like to ask you about the Cylons. If they're so hostile they'd follow you across the galaxy, we require more information about them so the Fleet can prepare to deal with them…appropriately."

She nodded affirmatively. That was only fair. If her people had brought their nemesis to these people's doorstep, it was only right to be straight with them.

"Very well, Captain Jackson, what would you like to know?"

"It's my understanding from my discussion with Captain Kelly the Cylons were an artificial intelligence project that went very wrong."

"That's right."

Then Adama stepped in and took up the thread. "It all started fifty-five years ago. One of our industrialists created the Cylons to make life 'easier' for our people. The machines were supposed to perform dangerous or mundane tasks that required a high degree of intelligence to enable them to act independently. Unfortunately, the industrialist succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. The machines became sentient and believed we'd created them to be our slaves. They rebelled and initiated a war against all of our colonies. Hundreds of millions of people were killed during that war and, to survive, the colonies were forced to unite. We formed a unified colonial government along with a colonial military force. The war lasted twelve long years with no end in sight. Then suddenly, forty two years ago, the Cylons asked for a cease fire and an armistice. We agreed immediately and signed a treaty with them, partitioning sectors of space between us. When the fighting ended, every single Cylon left the colonies and retreated behind the armistice line. For forty years, we heard nothing from them until they compromised our defenses and launched a surprise genocidal attack against our colonies."

Jackson met Adama's haunted gaze with a look of understanding. "I see. Captain Kelly told us they brought down your defense networks through infiltration and sabotage?"

"Yes," Adama admitted. "Some of them have evolved to pass as human. We're not certain how many human models they have. We've managed to uncover five so far. Additionally, they have mechanoid soldiers called Centurions and biochenes that function as their aerospace fighters. Finally, they have half human/half machine creatures called Hybrids. These Hybrids function as the primary computers for their capital warships called basestars."

"Admiral," Lena asked gently, "what kind of armament do these basestars carry?"

"They have a mix of nuclear and conventional warheads on their ship-to-ship missiles and a swarm of those biochene aerospace fighters. Unlike our battlestars which have both anti-ship and point defense guns and heavy armor, the basestars rely on their missiles and fighters for offense and solely on their fighters for defense. They're quite vulnerable to our ship-to-ship ordnance."

"Thank you, Admiral," the lovely blonde commander said. "The information you've provided will be included in my report to Admiral Amato."

"Commander Stenger," Tigh drawled, "We've shown you all of our linen. Perhaps you'd care to share the type of armaments your vessels carry?"

Laura frowned at Bill's old friend. For gods' sake, the man didn't have a diplomatic bone in his body!

Stenger, however, didn't seem thrown by the old man's brashness whatsoever. "I'd be happy to share that information with you, Colonel. In our navy, the armament of our vessels is dependent on the particular mission profile a class of vessel is designed to fulfill. However, for illustrative purposes, I will tell you about the armament of our _Metropolis-_class heavy cruisers, one of our more flexible platforms. She's designed to act independently or as an escort for our battlecarrier vessels. This heavy cruiser is equipped with four naval rifles with an effective range of two light seconds. She has four heavy plasma cannons with an effective range of one light second. As secondary weapons, she has twenty four heavy laser cannons with an effective range of one light second and five long range anti-ship missile batteries that can launch a hundred missiles per volley. Her anti-fighter/anti-missile weapons include sixty pulse laser cannons and forty missile batteries that can launch a salvo of four hundred missiles per volley."

While Tigh was apparently struck dumb by Lena's recitation, Lee Adama stammered, "E-excuse me, Commander Stenger. Are you saying your people have managed to develop honest-to-the-gods directed energy weapons?"

"Why, of course, Commander Adama. We've had them for the past four hundred years or so."

"By the gods!" Tigh whispered harshly.

Laura smirked. Well, she had to agree with Tigh on how frakking unbelievable these people weapons were if even half of what they had told the Adamas, Tigh, and her was true. "Captain Jackson," she asked, "I was wondering if your people have developed artificial intelligences of your own?"

"Yes, we have, Madame President. However, none of ours has ever become sentient to the best of my knowledge."

Dr. Dalle then apparently chose that moment to speak his mind. "Admiral."

"Yes, Dr. Dalle?"

"I may be able to find a way to detect Cylon infiltrators. If you have any bodies or prisoners—"

"Actually, Doctor, we do have two bodies preserved in our morgue. We also have a prisoner; however, she's not aboard the ship at this time. When she returns, we'll make her available to you, though."

"That would be fine, sir. Before I get started on that project, I'd like to discuss your peoples' medical and nutritional needs with Dr. Cottle. If we can work fast, I can send along a request for relief supplies with Commander Stenger and have the Fleet reinforcements transport the material here."

"That sounds good, Doctor," the Admiral said.

A genuine smile dawned on Laura's face as she said, "Captain, Doctor, Commander Stenger, we truly appreciate your willingness to come and meet us."

"Madame President," Jackson said, "the pleasure is truly ours. Now, if you don't mind, we'll step outside and leave you to discuss our proposal."

"Thank you, Captain Jackson," she said. Then she stood and everyone else in the room followed her lead.

Moments later, after the trio of Fleet officers had departed, she seated herself and the three colonial officers followed suit. Then she regarded the three men. "Well?"

"Jackson is smooth," Admiral Adama said. "The way he practically maneuvered us into having to accept their proposal kind of irked me but I couldn't find a good reason to turn him down, particularly with the Sakqua running around out there."

"That's true, Bill," Tigh noted. "Plus, it was pretty slick of Jackson to have Dalle throw in the offer of relief supplies on top of their proposal."

"Yeah," the Admiral agreed. "That was the frosting on the cake."

"So what's bugging you about the guy, dad?" Lee asked.

"I really can't put my finger on it, Lee. He clearly has line officer experience, which is great, but there's more to him. He's too comfortable with diplomacy to suit an old man like me. Something tells me he may be a spook."

"A spook?"

"I'm sorry, Madame President. I meant to say he's probably one of their fleet intelligence officers."

She nodded. "I can see what you mean. What about Commander Stenger?"

Tigh chuckled. "I don't think she's a spook. That lady is so in love with weaponry, she's got to be an ordnance officer!"

"And the doctor?" she threw out to the room.

"Well," Apollo said, "he didn't say much but I sense he's a younger, nicer version of Dr. Cottle."

"So…" she drawled, "to sum up this entire meeting, the Alliance of Planets appears to be both powerful and willing to help us even though they have their problems with a genocidal enemy of their own. However, they don't believe they originated on Kobol, they claim to have evidence in support of said belief, which if revealed to our people in the wrong way, could lead to disruption and violence in our society. Finally, we don't have a clue if they follow the tenets of our religion."

"All of that may be true, Madame President," Lee noted. "However, beggars can't be choosers."

She frowned slightly at the young man. "Although that may be the case, Commander Apollo, I've always hated that old maxim."

The old private joke between the elder woman and the young battlestar commander about his call sign let him know she'd only been teasing when she'd frowned at him moments ago. Then she regarded Admiral Adama with the secret smile she reserved only for him. "Admiral, would you please inform our 'guests' we've decided to accept their proposal."

"Of course, Madame President," he said with a wry smile of his own.

#


End file.
